We’ve all got fresh aspirations, visions and dreams for the New Year; some of us call them “New Year resolutions” while others simply refer to them as “goals”. Whatever the case, new dreams are crucial for a better life. Herein is the most helpful piece for the actualization of you goals:

Goals are the routes to success. Every accomplishment begins with a goal, whether consciously or unconsciously. Success is never achieved without goals; goals precede success. The realization of every dream is in goal setting. Anyone can achieve success in anything he sets out to do as far as he can plan. But just how do you set and accomplish a goal? Here is one of the best and most effective goal-setting plans you will ever learn:

Secret One:

 Decide exactly what you want in different aspects of your life and write it down. Ask yourself, “What achievement would be worth your very best effort?” “What would you attempt if you knew it was impossible to fail?” Make it measurable, specific, clear and detailed. Write out all the benefits and advantages of achieving your goal. Once the list goes between 50 and 100 your goal becomes unstoppable.

Secret Two: 

Attach a deadline for the achievement of your goal. If it is a large goal, ensure you break it down into smaller parts and set sub-deadlines.

Secret Three: 

Make a list of everything you would have to do (action steps) to achieve this goal. As you think of new items, add them to your list until it is complete.

Secret Four: 

Organize your list of action steps into a plan. Note that 20% of the

things that you do will account for 80% of your results. Therefore, organize your plans on the basis of two elements, priority and sequence. If you do not set clear

priorities, you will “major in minors” and spend much of your time doing small

and irrelevant tasks that do not help you achieve the goal. Determine what has to be done before something else can be done in order of relevance. 

Secret Five:

 Identify the key obstacles that might hold you back from achieving this goal. Identify the most important constraint or limitation holding you back and then focus on removing it from your way or overcoming it. It could be a certain amount of money, or a major resource. It could be additional information required, or an additional skill, character or habit. And it could be the assistance of one or more people. Whatever it is, identify it clearly and work to eliminate it immediately.

Secret Six: 

This is perhaps the most important in this process. Once you have determined your goal, developed your plan, attached your deadline, and identified your major obstacle, take action immediately toward the achievement of your goal. Nothing moves until you move; step out in faith. Do something immediately to start your process of goal attainment.

Secret Seven: 

Do something every day that moves you to towards your most relevant goal. Develop a habit of getting up each morning, planning your day and then doing something, anything, that moves you at least a step closer to your most important goal. This habit of doing something every single day that moves you toward an important goal develops within you the power of momentum. Daily action deepens your belief that the goal is achievable, and activates the Law of Attraction. As a result, you begin to move faster and faster towards your goal, and your goal begins to move faster and faster toward you.

Following these steps will surely make you a super-achiever before long! Plan to succeed now!

Perhaps if we had had children before him, we would have noticed earlier that something was amiss, but as it was, Enitan was our first child.

As his name depicts, there was a story behind his birth. 

We had gone through a long period of infertility and had been told by doctors that we could not have children. The medical evidence to support this opinion seemed overwhelming, but as practising Christians we believed that in every area of our lives, God, not man, has the last say in our lives and so we trusted and believed God for children.

Many years (and numerous miscarriages later,) our wonderful, beautiful, perfect son was born. All the pain and agony of the former years were forgotten as we stared in awe at our miracle baby in the delivery room.

He had so much hair, thick, curly and black and the longest eyelashes I have ever seen on a boy; gorgeous, the spitting image of his dad.

And so we settled down to the business of caring for our new son, fussing over anything and everything that concerned him.

Despite being pretty well endowed in the breast department, I was unable to produce sufficient milk; I would use the breast pump for about an hour and barely manage to produce 4oz. In the end we decided he was not getting enough and decided to put him on formula milk. 

The minute we did this, we had problems. He developed horrendous constipation. Four or five days would pass without a bowel movement and when he finally did he would scream in pain and he would bleed. None of the drugs given him for his constipation worked and in the end even though he was so young, we were given suppositories to insert in his anus as that was the only way he could go.

We began to notice other things: His stomach was always extended; he would sweat profusely during the night and vomit in his sleep. He didn’t seem to be able to keep his milk down and was prone to projectile vomit.

He also seemed a very unhealthy baby. He was always catching one infection or the other and had recurrent ear infections, which were treated repeatedly with antibiotics. (A huge mistake we later learned).

A Hyperactive Baby

As he grew older we began to notice other things. He was hyperactive. He would not, seemingly could not, sit still. He did not seem particularly interested in his toys, rather than play with cars appropriately, he would turn them on their side and spin the wheels for long periods of time in an almost trance like state. Rather than build with his building blocks, he would line them up in a straight line and would cry if we moved them. He stared endlessly at bright lights and would sit silently looking out the window for ages. He walked on tip-toe and seemed to look ‘through’ us rather than ‘at’ us.

When we put him on solid foods, he would choke. He did not seem to be able to chew and his constipation grew worse. All his milestones were delayed. He didn’t crawl for ages and did not walk until he was 16 months old. If he was excited he would jump up and down and flap his hands. He made strange, deep guttural noises and touched different textures in a manner that seemed weird. He sometimes appeared deaf. You could stand in front of him and call his name and he would not respond, but would then respond disproportionately to quiet background noise.

At about 12 months he started talking and had some phrases, but at about 18 months, he seemed to lose them and stopped talking. Despite these, Enitan was an extremely placid, happy child with a smile that would melt the hardest hearts and never any trouble. Still there was this nagging feeling that something was not quite right.

Then one day it all came to a head: I read a newspaper article where the then minister for health was accusing the medical profession of labelling an increasing number of children as being autistic. Later in the article she described how she had visited a special school and only 2 or 3 of the children she had met had the characteristic ‘gaze avoidance’ that autistic children are supposed to have. 

‘Gaze avoidance’? It suddenly hit me….

Until this time I knew little about autism or its characteristics. It was however topical at the time because some parents had said the MMR (vaccination) had caused their children’s autism. All I knew was that it was a condition that you heard about, out there somewhere, a tragedy that blighted other people’s lives, but could never, ever come near you. There was no way God would let that happen….. 

But the niggling feeling within me grew stronger. I was scared to say the word, as if by saying it I would be giving it creative power. But in the end I was forced to share what I had read with my husband. I ended the conversation by stating I had not mentioned anything earlier as I had not wanted to scare him. It so happened that he had not mentioned anything to me for the exact same reason.

He then shared with me how he had taken Enitan to the park recently and how he watched all the other children who seemed to be so inquisitive about their world, whereas Enitan did not seem to be interested in anything, but swinging back and forth over and over.

That night we decided we would both spend a week researching autism and then compare notes. We assured ourselves that there was obviously no way that he had autism, but we would do it all the same.

All I can say is “thank God for the internet” that gave us all the information we needed. After our week of researching it was clear that he had autism and of course our world fell apart. We then had to get a formal diagnosis.

People think that the western world knows a lot about autism: That is not necessarily true. Most health professionals still do not know how to recognise autism and even where they do, they are reluctant to pronounce it to the parents due to the devastation it will bring. Rather they may say “he’s just a slow developer; he’ll talk soon, just give him time”.

Time is the one thing that an autistic child does not have…. You have a window of opportunity between birth and age 5 or 6 while there is still some brain plasticity that can be moulded, but you need intense intervention to do so. That’s not to say an older autistic child cannot be helped, but it becomes harder as they grow older and their bizarre behaviour takes root.

Our doctor referred us to a paediatrician who thankfully was not only very versed in autism, but was up to date and open to trying many of the interventions new research was showing could greatly help these children, such as ‘Applied Behaviour Analysis’ , (otherwise known as Lovaas therapy), bio medical and diet intervention, etc.

Once we had our diagnosis, there was nothing to do but to grieve. The grief seemed endless for both of us and we of course grieved in different ways. Despite his grief, disappointment, fear for the future of his son, my husband’s love and commitment to our son and our marriage never wavered for a second and we set about the impossible task of getting on with our shattered lives, making major life adjustments, (I had to give up my job to care for our son full time). By this time we had had a second child and so we now had an added financial strain.

More importantly, we began to put strategies in place to help our son. I had read somewhere that it is vital to keep talking to autistic children, so they have less opportunity to disappear into their own little world. I would talk to Enitan all day long, taking him with me all around the house. He was not to be left on his own for more than 30 minutes in a day. We vocalised everything. “Enitan is going up the stairs,” “Mummy is holding a glass.”

We got a speech therapist who gave us strategies to make him talk. She explained the importance of non verbal communication, such as eye contact, so when talking to him we would put our finger under his chin to make sure he looks at us first. “Look at me” became the most used phrase in our household. She advised us to break language down to the barest minimum, no long sentences, only clear direct speech. “Sit down”, rather than “can you go and sit over there please?”

We had an occupational therapist who helped with coordination etc. There was a constant stream of strangers coming in and out of our house. We are a very private couple. It was intrusive and exhausting, but necessary. At this stage we weren’t really concerned with what they were doing per se, we just wanted to make sure he got used to interacting with other people.

We were told it was important to make interacting with people fun. There were lots of tickling games, over the top praise, “Yeah, Enitan said ‘cup’.” “Well done Enitan! Good boy”

We started an intensive therapy programme called Applied Behaviour Analysis. This is where tasks are broken down into bite size pieces and once one part is mastered, they go to the next stage. 

We also changed his diet. 

There is a lot of debate about what causes autism, some say it is genetic, others that it is caused by vaccination etc, but there is an autistic school of thought that says it is caused by a faulty digestive system (often referred to as ‘leaky gut syndrome’) . This is where because the gut is faulty, digestion is not going on the way it should do, peptides cause the gut to begin to leak and food that should be digested begins to enter the blood stream and carries it to the brain which interferes with brain function. I personally believe there is a genetic disposition towards autism, but identify totally with the leaky gut theory as it is characterised by constipation, etc which were all present in my son’s infancy.

In order to rebuild the gut, certain bio medical interventions had to be employed. I learnt a new language of enzymes, amino acid, fatty acid, IQ (a brand of fish oil), zinc etc and learnt the essence of these on brain function and child development.

Our friends were fantastic. They began to research on the topic and would send us any information they could find (and still do). I read Lyn Hamilton’s book, ‘Facing autism’. It was an eye opener and very informative, as well as Catherine Maurice’s excellent book, “Let me hear your voice,” which gave me hope and introduced me to ABA. Catherine had 2 children on the autistic spectrum that both ‘recovered’ and have gone on to be indistinguishable from their neuro-typical, “(normal)” peers. I also read ‘Sonrise’, a book by Barry Kaufmann whose son also ‘recovered’ from autism through a similar programme.

Today, Enitan is a very happy, affectionate, handsome 8 year-old boy. He attends a special school for 3 days a week (a painful decision we made after he attended main stream school for 2 years). It was clear he was going to get more and more lost as he did not have a basic understanding of the work, nor the ability to carry it out. Neither was the school able to cater for his particular needs).

He still continues his ABA programme at home for 2 days a week and it is to the principles of this programme that I attribute the majority of his progress.

Although he is now verbal, his speech is much delayed, but his vocabulary is broadening all the time. His self help skills are also improving. He can get his own cereal and needs very little help to get dressed. He can also carry out basic chores.  

What does the future hold? Only God knows. In the early days of his diagnosis I nearly drove myself insane by dwelling on questions like that. “How will he cope?” “Will he ever have any friends?” “Will he ever get married?” “Will he be able to work”? Thankfully we have come to a place where we can use our time concentrating on the things that are within our power to affect and are productive for our son.

First of all, we love him unconditionally and ensure that we enjoy every moment that we can with him. We have made a decision to concentrate on the wonderful things about him. We will do our best to teach him independence skills and make as much financial provision as we can for him, for after we are gone…. The rest is in God’s hands.

Writers note: Writing this article has been a long and painful journey, but it had to be written for the sake of the thousands, (yes, thousands) of Nigerian parents who have children with disabilities and are held captive by the fear of “what will people say?”

Unfortunately in our society, ‘Image is everything’. Seemingly, we must live in the right neighbourhood, drive a certain car, be persistently immaculately dressed and we must be able to boast about our children at social gatherings. After all, they are all part of the image.

So where does that leave a family with a child with a disability? At best marginalised, at worst totally outcast.

I cannot tell you the endless stories of parents keeping their disabled children indoors and hidden for years on end for fear that someone might know they exist. One woman recently told me of how her cousin was kept in a cage that was not big enough for him to stand up in until he died; another of a friend of hers in Nigeria who has non-verbal autistic twin girls and calls her everyday from Nigeria crying and depressed.. She says she can’t take the children out because people are laughing at her. They do not go to school….

I will always remember a story my father told us of a family we knew who had a physically disabled child. One day when my father asked after the child, the father of the child confessed that in the end they had murdered the child one night. MURDERED THEIR OWN CHILD. I understand this is not uncommon.

We must change the way we think. The fact that a child has a disability does not make them a write-off or less worthy of love or of a life. It may mean that some of the dreams we dream for our children will have to die or we may have to dream a different dream and if we must  lose some friends and family along the way because of them, so be it, but  as parents we should be prepared to climb any mountain for our children. They are worth it. At least I know mine are.

Bimbo Clement is a practising Christian. She lives in London with her husband and two sons. She runs an Employment Law consultancy and is founder of Black Businesses, (a business group for black professionals). She can be contacted at bebe_clement@hotmail.com

Trust me; it’s not always true that mothers know best, at least not when it comes to matters of the heart! My mum thought she knew what was best for me when it came to the choice of who I should marry, and then she

robbed me of a chance to walk up the aisle with the man of my choice when I was 30. 8 years on, I am still single!

May mum’s sweet soul rest in peace but on every anniversary of her death I can’t help but remember her role in rendering me husbandless. I sometimes remember her with bitterness. They say time heals every hurt

but not the kind of hurt that came between me and a fantastic opportunity to be the lawfully wedded wife of a man I truly loved. Tribalism and ethnicity shall always be the bane of this country even though I do admit that things have changed for the better. My parents were very tribalistic, my mum especially! I could always get dad to see reason

but not mum; she would always say things like ‘omo ibo’ each time she had to talk about my friends from the east. She would spit out the words the way oyinbo man would say ‘nigger.’ Dad got tired of reprimanding her and just let her be. Mum was very domineering and no one  won in an argument with her. Trust my luck to fall in love with an ‘omo ibo.’ Christopher was every woman’s dream guy; tall, humorous and… intelligent as I discovered later. I was crazy about tall guys, perhaps because I’ve got heights too. He was a confident guy; his confidence

oozed forth and being confident too we seemed a good match for each other. Our meeting isn’t anything out of the ordinary; we met at a party and having given him all the signs so he could ask me for a dance and he still didn’t respond, I decided to to ask him. Surprisingly, he jumped at the chance and later told me that he’d have his eyes on me all evening. “You were the first person I noticed when I walked into the party” “You’re kidding me” I asked flirting with him as we danced “Yep, I had my eyes on you but you beat me to it. That’s good because I

might still be sitting there and planning my moves”

“Count today as your lucky day then” I teased

“You’re tall…my kind of woman”

With music over, he led me back to my seat and pulled one for himself. We chatted like old friends and with party over he asked me for my number. “You will call?” I asked in a faint voice “Try and stop me” he grinned

He did call and that was the beginning of a romance that that bloomed and blossomed. He was my best kept secret (from mom) although my siblings and close friends knew all about us. The few times I tried to have an intimate time with mum, she’d upset me by her caustic remark which ended with; “Don’t bring omo ibo to this house o” and then a long hiss!

“But mom…”

“I know you are going out with one of them, I have seen you rolling your eyes and yet you have not brought him home. Is it not because he is omo ibo?”

Well that was it! But after Chris and I had dated for over 9 months he surprised me when out of the blue he asked when I would take him to meet his future parents-in-law?.

“Let’s take this relationship a notch higher or don’t I qualify”? I was over the moon and planted kisses all over his

fine face. “Of course you qualify ….!” I had run out of excuses! So one day, I happily (with a lot of apprehension) told

mum, dad and everyone else that I was bringing Christopher home. “As long as he is from our place, remember that you are my first born” was all she said as she gave me one of her infamous “Sheoo” hisses.

Later, I took my case to dad who simply said to me “you know your mother and her trouble…” dad was a real disappointment; he never was able to stand up to mum. Where did that leave me?

It was time someone dared mum, so I brought Chris home! The humiliation was too much to bear as mum was at her nastiest. She asked Chris questions in Yoruba even though she knew he was Ibo! Chris took it badly and that affected our relationship. Gradually, we just drifted. I thought mum herself would come around as I walked around the whole house like a jilted bride. But not mum…and then fate played a cruel one on me…

Mum died in an accident! Everyone thought that after mourning, Chris and I could patch it up but I didn’t think it was the thing to do since mom never approved. With the way mum spoke about Ibos I wasn’t sure she would not come back to hunt me If I married Chris. Dad had given me the GO-ahead but I felt like telling him what a disappointment he was to us his children. But then I felt he already sensed my resentment of him.

At 38, I am still single and searching…Chris? I heard he got married!

The story you’re about to read may come across quite like some fictitious

creation, especially because of its spooky parts; but make no mistake about

it, for this is as real as as it gets.. It is the lamentation of a young girl in one

of Nigeria’s ivory towers as told to her close friends in the dying minutes of

her life. Another story of wanton sex–capade ending on a “sore”note,

Tolani – that’s her name – told her friends how she wished she had lived her

life differently and stuck to her life-long goal of obtaining a university educa-

tion as a means of combating the poverty that had engulfed her from child-

hood. For effect, we serve you her story in the first person narrative.

Hope! Does that word really exist? For me it doesn’t. I

have reached the end-point of my life. There is simply

nowhere for me to go from here. I’ve debated this

within myself for a long time before deciding to come

out with it. I’ve come to the conclusion that it’ll do no

good to keep it to myself. At worst, somebody out

there will learn from my mistakes and hopefully

decide against toeing the line I unwittingly toed, because right now I have

reached the point of no return.

My name is Tolani. I am 25 years old. I am tall, slim and good-looking. I come

from a very poor background. My father was a retiree from one of the govern-

ment ministries and the gratuity he was paid was not enough to feed the family.

My mother was a petty trader. Although we had little materially, we were rich

morally and spiritually. My father taught us to be contented with the little we

had.

I went to the primary and secondary schools my parents could afford, but

because I was intelligent, I soon became one of the best students in my class in

my primary and later secondary school. Right after my school certificate exami-

nation, I passed my JAMB and gained admission into one of the higher institu-

tions in Nigeria. Owing to my resolve, I got serious with my academics right

from day one at the university; and my results were there to show for it. My

grades were very good and I was happy with myself. I closed my eyes to all

things that could distract me academically. However, my days of academic

glory were numbered.

In my third year in the university, I met a clique of girls and we became very

close. I began attending parties and the big clubs in town. Soon I became a

party freak. There was no party on or off campus I was not invited to; and I

made it a duty to attend them all. As a result, my school work suffered. I

scarcely attended lectures and would rather collect any of my classmate’s notes

to photocopy. As the first semester wound down, I knew my results would be

bad alright but I was not ready for what I got.

I failed all my courses and by the time my GPA was calculated, it had fallen

below 1.0. I also got a written warning from the university authority to either sit

up or face expulsion. I was devastated. I used to be very good in my first and

second year. So I knew I had to sit up. I made up my mind to get serious with

my academics because I could not live with the disgrace of expulsion.

But before long, I began to miss the thrill of night life. I began to drink heavi-

ly. I also smoked and even had two abortions along the line. I started getting

involved with older married men. I dated for the money and because my

friends were doing it. I needed to keep up with my lavish lifestyle and to

‘belong’. I didn’t want to be left out. I became a top ‘aristo’ babe and I had

everything I wanted financially - bags, shoes, clothes; even a car. I was a big

chic. Thanks to my ‘runs guys’ and my older boyfriends. I did a lot of dirty

things for money. I was a prostitute in the real sense of the word. Of course, I

justified my actions since I used part of the money to cater for my parents and

my siblings. They were bothered about the source of my money but I told them

that I was working and schooling at the same time.

On one of my usual weekend gigs, I met a very rich chief. He came in the

company of another girl but something happened and the girl left the party

early. I found myself sitting next to him and we started gisting. We spent the

night in his guest house. Hmmm! That night changed my life entirely. Chief

removed his clothes and what I saw horrified me. His body was covered with

terrible sores. He offered me money that was really mouth-watering if only I

licked all his sores. He said that I would die if I refuse since I had already seen

them. I guess that was a threat. But, I licked the sores anyway, collected the

money and left.

After that night, I never felt normal again. I became sick and started throwing

up continuously. I was getting weaker and slimmer, and kept having terrible

nightmares. I went to the hospital to see if they could diagnose my problem,

but the doctor found nothing wrong with me. I wasn’t surprised though. I then

turned to a spiritualist who told me that the legion of sores on the chief, which

I had licked was the cause of my sickness. He also bluntly told me that there

was no cure for my illness. Death was the last thing on my mind when I licked

those sores, but here I am, in my prime, struggling with death. It’s very painful

to think that I have nothing to show for my little sojourn on mother earth. I will

never graduate from school like I always dreamt. I will never have a second

chance to correct the foolish mistakes I made because I have only a few weeks

to live. So I’ve decided to tell my story to the world, to learn from it. Please

don’t feel sorry for me. I got what I deserved.

*Tolani died a few weeks after telling her story.

Welcome to the much anticipated Mercedes Benz IMGNew York Fashion week edition. Now, we are

offering money back guarantee to readers if this isn’t a befitting finale to all other reports on the

fashion fiesta. You see, the G-Team was right in the middle of it for 10 days and can’t wait to give you a bird’s eye view of it all… and that you can take to the bank! We left Nigeria two days before the event on VIRGIN ATLANTIC; our worthy

partner. I was the team leader, then there was Motunrayo Bello (features and interviews), Seun Orotokhai (Fruition), Sonia Irabor (entertainment; from a visit to the famous Apollo, to Sourcemagazine which bought over Vibes, to

after parties and anything that was remotely connected with entertainment). Ifeoma Williams (Fruition) joined us three days later. Then there was Saheed - a fashion and style connoisseur and a Tom Ford protege. Together, the team

combed NYC for exclusives. They also lived it up. If they were not attending after parties, they were dining at the Buddakan where one of the scenes of SEX AND THE CITY was shot. They just missed P-Diddy’s legendary after party, because of a lil’ mix up with the invitation. So instead of partying after the Video Music Awards, they were content to eat yet another Chinese take-

out in my room and watch the VMA on TV. Fashion, Passion and Addiction were in sync during the event which held at

the Bryant Park in Manhattan. The first day was for registration and trust us, we were right on time. And as

we stepped out to receive our passes, the young man in charge said to us when we offered him a copy of Genevieve “Oh, that won’t be necessary, I already have a bunch of Genevieve in my office…wehad inundated them with calls and dispatched a dozen copies of Genevieve to the IMGoffice. My, we were chuffed to be so recognised and filed out to get some winks before The

Arise Showthe next day. We were proud to sit in the tent in far away New York and watch our designers in the rank and file of big players. Tiffany Amber, Jewel by Lisa didn’t disappoint and they were rewarded with thunderous applause from the full house. Well, I knew our designers would go places but I just didn’t realise it would be this soon. You see, dreams do come true.

Kudos, Arise!. They say success is what you get when opportunity meets chance…opportunities don’t come any more than that created for our design- ers by ARISE. Nice one guys! For a whole week plus, New York bubbled and the city reputed for neither

sleeping nor slumbering blazed forth as one event wove into the other. There were private viewings by top designers for which you were welcome if you had a special invitation. Psst… the G-TEAM got bounced a couple of times because the PR Company we hired was totally inept. But instead of taking it personal, we decided to get even… we re-strategized and turned up for private

shows looking so opulent that we were welcome even without an invitation. There were so many shows going on in the tent and outside that it was impossible to be everywhere all the time. I couldn’t catch up with the team’s stride, so I opted to do a solo and went to some private shows like the Dior cocktail and visited Essencemagazine. I was also invited to the legendary Ashford and Simpson’s Sugar Bar and guess who would walk in? …. Andre Leon Talley, the editor at large of Vogue. Sugar bar was fun as old and new

musicians turned up to perform. The team spent the last but one day of our visit at the New York branch of the Susan Komen foundation for cancer. We were received by Dr. Dara Richardson, a cancer survivor herself. We made our pitch and pleaded with

the foundation to cast an eye on Nigeria, especially as we were told that the association had been to Senegal, Ghana, Egypt (where they decked the pyra- mid in pink) and didn’t even have plans to visit Nigeria. “We will pass your message to the main organisation,she said and congratulated us for the Pink Ball initiative. I think they were all impressed by us especially after we present-

ed them with Genevieve. We later posed for pictures. Now, I thought I was the only one with a pink bathroom until I saw theirs!

And so it was that after 10 days of rocking New York, we returned home - not without a bit of beef and drama but then that’s OK!

This edition is a keepsake, so buy your own copy as well as a copy of Morning Dewthe book. Launch of the book is Dec. Lots of fun and gifts for guests.

SAHEED SULAIMAN TAKES OVER STYLETITUDE DESK

By the way, batons have changed hands at the Styletitudedesk. Saheed Sulaiman, who is vastly knowledge-able about style, fashion and lifestyle, takes over from our former freelance Fashion Editor Ifeoma Williams. Saheed debuts this month as Guest Editor Stylefiles. Let us know what you think.

GRATITUDE

Trip to the Mercedes Benz-IMG NY

Fashion weekwas made possible by Virgin

Atlantic…thank you Chief Adebanjo, the country manager; Nick, Wura

and Kudi (How could I have called you Nkem in the Sept Morning dew?)

Thank you duty manager at MMfor the red carpet treatment. Special gratitude

to Governor

Raji

Fasholawho surprised us with a handsome cheque and

thank you HRH.

Ugoji.

Enjoy and have a feast!

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Why has cheating suddenly become

easier? Why are more people increas-

ingly cheating on their loved ones? In

this final part, Lanre Olusola evaluates

some of the most common excuses…

CHALLENGING TIMES

Sometimes the situations and circumstances we find ourselves in

may get to us, especially during very difficult and challenging times.

At such times we may be confused and the understanding, attention

or even sometimes the support we get from other people influence

our actions and we get into a relationship we never planned for.

According to one of the ladies I spoke to, once she finds that her

partner has cheated on her she will break up the relationship. Her

reason being that forgiving is a sign of weakness and acceptance of

infidelity; this she believes may encourage a re-occurrence. She also

thinks that if you forgive the cheat, he may lose all respect for you

and continue the act simply because he thinks he can get away with

it again and again. So punishing the cheat by breaking up with him

is her solution. “Never take him back”she says. But my question to

her was – How many people in your lifetime would you then have a

relationship with?

BEING MISTREATED

If your partner is mistreating you, your first reaction may be to get back at

him, especially in a situation where you have complained over and over

again. Another instinct may be to get away from him or her; sometimes this

is not really as simple as it sounds, especially when you have been in that

marriage for a long time and children are involved. It is natural to feel

trapped in a seemingly bad relationship. One of the most natural reactions

may be to run into the open arms of a person who seems to be treating you

well in comparison to your partner.

For some “Revenge” becomes theoption – “an eye for an eye”. If he can

cheat on me, so can I. After all, whatever a man can do a woman can also

do, and do even better. What makes it a “man’s world”? So if your partner

continues to cheat on you, hurt you or abuse you in some way, you will also

continue to repay him in his own coins.

The Truth of the matter here is that it’s YOU you’re

further hurting not him.

COMPLACENCY

In relationships of long standing, partners some-

times can get complacent. Your partner may begin

to take you for granted - he stops appreciating you,

complimenting you, stops telling you how much he

loves you, he stops buying you gifts, he even takes

it for granted that you know these things and under-

stand (In such situations you may begin to feel less

confident with yourself and begin to wonder

whether you are still attractive, especially if when

you were single you got a lot of suitors who always fell over themselves, thus

signifying how hot you were as a single lady). Then someone comes along

who regularly compliments you, telling you how beautiful you look; before

you realize it, you will daily begin to play to the gallery, dressing for him,

making sure you see him or speak to him regularly – his comments about

your looks will begin to give you a boost and before you know it, you’d have

started a side relationship with this guy, just on the basis of a “Re-affirma-

tion of your beauty and attractiveness”.

JUST FOR THE THRILL

Some people just like to live on the edge, they enjoy the thrill of being given

attention by the opposite sex, they also like giving the opposite sex attention,

the idea of cheating thrills them. They love running around secretly, risking

getting caught, and creating thrilling moments with a forbidden romance.

LACK OF FORMALITY

Some relationships do not draw the line, they usually permit and have grey

areas, for example usually before your relationship becomes exclusive the

guy thinks that date #6 is when you concluded and agreed to be “together,”

but you may think that it happened during date #2. At the point where they

had not made their relationship exclusive they do not consider their actions as cheating. So if you do not draw the line and talk about exclusivity, your

partner may think that he or she is well within their rights to see other peo-

ple, even though the other person in the relationship may not.

There are many reasons people cheat — too little attention, too much

attention from the other party, fear, boredom e.t.c? For some, it may be the

excitement and thrill— the promise of being naked with someone new.

According to Dione this is what works for me

“I never kissed John, although I desperately wanted to.” This is my strate-

gy for ducking temptation. It’s not that I imagine my husband’s handsome

and loving face or the notion of telling myself it’s just not worth it, and

thinking that I don’t want to throw it all away.

Instead, every time I have a strong urge, each moment I find myself

attracted to someone and I begin to want to start flirting, I

immediately tell my husband. Because once I confess to

him my lust dwindles and I lose interest. Of course, having

a conversation about a potential infidelity is not easy — I

remember when I told my husband about John, he was

understandably very upset. But two things happened: we

both became closer, and John immediately lost his sheen.

I took the mystery right out of it and made my marriage

stronger in the process.

In conclusion we may not all understand why people

don’t break up as soon as they have an urge to cheat.

Temptation can seem like a very natural thing; but is temp-

tation a sign that the relationship is losing its fire and that you may need to

work harder at it or is it a good reason to cheat on your partner?

So what reasons would you add to this list, and do you disagree with

any? If you’ve ever cheated, why did you do it? Could you forgive a cheat?

If you are single, but seeing a person who is in a committed relationship,

does that make you a cheat?

We would like to hear your views, and also learn from your experience,

please write to us .

Happenstance

It was the morning of the Pink Ball and there I was sweating the small stuffs! I was restive and needed to shake off a cloud that hung over my head and left me brooding. I was having something akin to bridal jitters. Hmmmmmm!

Then came a text message from my aburo, Aisha. It was full of inspiration like the many that came in earlier, except that it ended with instructions that I should go out and give alms to the poor. Wh-a-a-a-t? On a day like this? I exclaimed under my breath. I dismissed that part of the text and tried to settle down; after all, I couldn’t hold back the hand of time. It was D-day – ready or not. I took time to reflect on my life since the first Pink Ball and all I could think of was, what have I gotten myself into? My heart pined after my quiet life as a dutiful wife and devoted mother. …

The Genevieve Magazine Online JUNE, 2009 (THE PINK BALL EDITION) is now available at http://chicnicityllc.com

The Genevieve Pink Ball event was held to create awareness about breast cancer in Nigeria.
The event included a fashion show by Tiffany Amber (with celebrity models like Funke Akindele(JENIFA), Bellanaija(Bellanaija.com), Ruth Osime(This Day Style) and others.

Subscribe in the month of June, 2009 and receive a FREE 3 MONTH SUBSCRIPTION for a friend or family member, view exclusive pictures of the Genevieve Pink Ball event (only available in the online edition) and be automatically entered in our raffle draw to win some CHIC HOT items.

Benefits of subscribing online include Instant gratification (no more waiting), Instant accessibility to your digital magazine at all times, Secure payment with Paypal, Eco- friendly and much more.

To Subscribe or Read 3 FREE EDITIONS of Genevieve Magazine Olnline, visit: http://chicnicityllc.com

Neglected by mum, abused by an uncle and battered by dad… Kate tells the gruesome story of her childhood in an emotion-laden voice.

My name is Kate (not real name) and I am a student at the University of Lagos. For the sake of anonymity, I’d rather not disclose my department or level, because the story I’m about to tell is so embarrassing that it could get me stigmatised among my peers. Even as I speak, my experiences in life affect me, and have greatly affected my relationship with people, especially men. It is a story of total childhood neglect, for which I would blame my mother; gross child abuse and paedophilia, for which my animalistic uncle takes the blame, and childhood brutality, for which I will blame my father most.

I grew up bearing another man’s name (my mum’s husband’s) until I was about 17, when I was challenged by someone. All along though, I always suspected that things were just not right with me; you know, the usual kids’ feeling of neglect; of not being welcome or treated equally with the other kids; of not being allowed to watch TV like other kids, of not being bought Christmas clothes like the other kids…. My mother, probably because of the way she grew up - she was also a product of a broken home-never really cared about me. The ultimate for her was therefore to protect her husband and marriage, even at my own detriment. It was also clear that she was not comfortable having me around, most probably because I reminded her of her former husband, my father, whom she had come to hate.

There was this uncle of mine; he’s a very popular figure now; it was in his house that I spent most of my free time. At other times, I also stayed at my aunt’s place. Because of my mother’s unwelcome attitude, I was always shuttling between peoples’ houses. Interestingly, my uncle’s place was more like the home I needed, and so we’d go there during vacations; and he was always buying us chocolates - I think I was around five or six then. One afternoon however, I left my aunt’s place (my mum’s younger sister; I think she and my mum had issues) and went to stay at my uncle’s place. Things went well, until suddenly I noticed that he would come back from work and just take out his anger on me, apparently due to some frustrations at work, and because I was usually the only one at home. For no just reason, he would beat me silly, and thereafter strip himself naked and order me to go naked; then he would put his manhood in my mouth and force me to do real disgusting things until he came. It never ended there, as he also forced me to lick up every bit of his semen and swallow all. Any attempt to refuse was met with gruesome beating and this went on for four years. Yeah, that was how long I had to put up with it, because I had nowhere to go. More frustrating was the fact that I had nobody to report to; nobody, because as I said earlier, my mother was never close to me. Even on those occasions when I as much as summoned the courage to say “Mummy, do you know what uncle did?” I was usually met with series of hot slaps and a command to “shut up!!” And my uncle actually capitalised on that situation. He knew I was as good as an orphan.

His driver too

Even my uncle’s driver was not left out in this abuse. Usually he went to drop my uncle’s children, who were much older and in college off at school. Because of what I knew would happen if left alone with my uncle at home, I usually preferred to ride with them and be away from home, even if it was just for a while. On this particular occasion, I slept off in the car as we were coming back, but suddenly woke up to find the driver poking his fingers into my private part. I was so shocked that I tried to raise an alarm by crying out for help; but all I got even as I began to open my mouth was a vicious slap; I still call it the slap of my life; because after that I just shut up and endured the ignominy and cried all through. As usual, there was nobody to report to. Is it the uncle that was doing the same thing to me that I’ll go and tell, or is it the mum, who just wouldn’t listen?

The after-effect

Of course it got to me psychologically and I was always cold, sluggish and withdrawn. I was always crying, always sick and always throwing up – a result of the swallowed semen, but never able to unburden my heart to anyone. I couldn’t even tell my teachers at school because I was living under serious fear. I was like an unwanted child, so nobody ever asked about why I was always sick, let alone take me to the hospital. I finally left my uncle’s house when I was eight to live at my aunt’s. Now she also was hostile in a different way, and the bottom-line was that she didn’t want me around and therefore built a ‘block’ around herself, such that I couldn’t relate to her. She made it clear in her attitude that I was a burden that she just had to put up with. So I endured different levels of abuse and hostility; and became an introvert and also suspicious of people around me.

Nowhere to be found!

My mother for instance never taught me anything about sex. She was so detached from me that she didn’t even know when I started my menstruation, even though I was practically living with her then. I only noticed some blood stains all over my body, and I was still wondering about what was going on when our neighbour, a man, called me and gave me some tissues and money to get the necessary things to clean up. He was a married man who up until then hadn’t made any obscene gesture to me. So, he was purely out to help; knowing fully well that my mom would never bother. But instead of my mum being appreciative of the man’s gesture, she picked a quarrel with him and all hell let loose. All sorts of nonsense!

In fact my first education on sex was on TV via the late MEE Mofe Damijo’s show. I remember how I had to sneak into some neighbour’s room to watch this particular episode which was on sex education. Seeing my enthusiasm and knowing that I would never be allowed to watch it in my own home, the neighbour also promised to allow me watch subsequent editions. You could say all I know about sex I learnt from MEE’s show; and from my own findings. Even as I’m speaking to you now, I still haven’t told my mum of my experiences at the hands of her relative, because there has never been that kind of opportunity.

Lost And Found Dad

I didn’t meet my real father until I was around 17. Interestingly, dad wasn’t much better than mum in the final analysis. I lived in his house for about a month and I was thrown out. My education had been partly financed by my dad’s elder brother and myself, because I started working right after secondary school. Of course there was the initial euphoria of finding his lost daughter, and he showed so much love during that period. But I had this half-brother, who because we were almost within the same age bracket engaged me in the usual childish rivalry and arguments. Expectedly, that set the stage for my problems, because naturally, I was the guilty one. They say it doesn’t rain but it pours; my step-sister was getting married and she accused me of stealing her money, which was not true. I tried to let her see that she couldn’t just zero down on me because this was a time when we had so many people in the house, but she insisted and even took out of my lunch allowance as replacement. So during the engagement, I was the one that helped collect the money people sprayed her, and I simply took back my money. And then she went to report me to my dad that I’d stolen her money. And as hard as I tried to explain to my dad that she was the one that first took my money without my consent, he was not just ready to listen. So I became the thief in the house and they as much as possible tried to stigmatise me as a thief in the neighbourhood. Dad even bought different sizes of canes, specifically to service me and one day, on the basis of some missing items and other lies, I was called out at the assembly at my father’s instance, stripped naked, and publicly flogged. All these at a time when I was in SS1 class!

Things generally became so unbearable for me in my father’s house that I knew it was a matter of time before the bubble burst. And it did burst. We had a disagreement over my intention to go and spend one Xmas at my aunt’s. He objected, whereas I insisted; and before I knew it, there was a face-off. He started chasing me round the house with his horse whip and whipped me until everyone stopped to watch. I was so angry that I didn’t know when I bent low, scooped up some sand and poured them directly into his eyes. Of course that was the end of my stay in his house as he threw my things out. A neighbour took me in for two weeks until my mother – I don’t know how she was able to talk her into it – came and took me away. All through my whole ordeal in my father’s house, she never knew anything because she never asked or checked on me.

After that she tried to be close to me and even tried to atone for her past misdeeds, but I guess it’s too late. We do have a relationship alright, but that closeness can just never be there. Even now, I practically live on campus as I have nowhere I can really call home.

First true friend

Believe me, the first time I ever unburdened my heart to anyone was when I was 23, and it was to my boss at work, whom I also played tennis with. In my attempt to take my mind off the different issues bothering me, I’d taken to tennis. But he noticed that I usually just packed my racket and disappeared as soon as a game was over, so he called me one day and was like “hey, can we talk over suya or drink” Initially my attitude was like what now! But he made it clear he was coming as a friend and nothing more. So we got talking and I told him every bit of the horrible experience I had bottled up and lived with all my life. And he was consoling, promising to be of help as much as possible. For you to know how much of a confidant he has become, I even told him I was coming to give this interview. And though he was against it, I made it clear I was telling the story because I wanted mothers out there to be aware of the dangers out there and maintain a close and cordial relationship with their daughters.

Why is she telling this story?

I was at the UNILAG Campus Genevieve Gathering; I’m an avid reader of Genevieve and I knew that a seminar from its stables, especially on sex education was always going to be very enriching. So I was the first girl in the hall – I even ignored my lecture for that afternoon, just to make sure I didn’t miss anything. Even at the end of the day, I still think that those girls that really should have been there to learn from the topic of the day were not there. Believe me, I’ve seen things. I’ve seen how girls live on the fast lane and practically murder themselves through wanton sex-capades and quest for money. I remember how a 100 level girl got impregnated and had to be aided by her boyfriend to abort it by inserting a long, curved iron (straightened clothe hanger) into her womb through her vagina to pull out the growing foetus. That was just a week before Genevieve came to the campus. Of course the girl died in the process. And that was not the first time such was happening on that campus. I have seen what lack of adequate parenting and counselling and childhood abuse can do to a person. And that’s why I’m telling this story. I am a living experience of some of these things and that was why it was not easy for me to place myself in the picture of turn-around or turning-point that Mr. Toyin Subair was painting that afternoon. He spoke well, but I just wanted to ask him how he expected an abused child like me to have a turning point. What was that turning point that can erase the memory of all that experience at the hands of my uncle?

Love Life

Absolutely none. I’m 28 but my experiences in life have taught me that marriage really is not the ultimate. I’ve seen so many failed marriages and so many violent and unhappy ones, that I might as well just live my life alone. Honestly I think that marriage is not for me. I can do without all those complications. Even my only attempt at a love affair ended up on a real sad note as the guy turned out to be the kiss and tell type.