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"I believe the greater the handicap,
the greater the triumph."
John H. Johnson
the greater the triumph."
John H. Johnson
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Introduction
“My mother passed this evening at about 4:30pm and I am so confused that I do not know how or where to start from, this is totally devastating for me, too much for me to bear Shade.” Tears rolled down my cheeks as I spoke with my colleague on the phone that evening. Remembering My Dear Mother I can still remember that very evening when I got a phone call from my uncle that my mother passed a few minutes after I spoke with her on the phone. The pain, the confusion, the fear of handling the loss kept running through my mind, yet I was determined to give my mother a befitting funeral that she asked for. My mother had the premonition that she was going to die and based on that, she started telling me how she wanted her funeral to look like. She had even called a professional photographer and took photographs that we would use during her funeral, but I could not believe everything she was telling me until it happened. She had been sick for close to three months and at first we thought it was just minor pains, until she kept complaining of seeing dead people coupled with all kinds of dreams that she could not explain. My mother was on and off hospital bed without solution or any form of diagnosis. It was a very trying period for me, my uncles and siblings because of the fact that the Doctor or laboratory report could not find any specific problem other than pains. “The pain is getting worse by the day, I don’t think I can bear this anymore, it is better to go be with the lord” was what my mother told me on the phone one Saturday evening “mummy you will be fine” I replied. After that conversation my mother would call me and begin to tell me how she would want her funeral to be, the kind of casket; the people that would take the readings in church as well as the Rev. Father to lead the funeral Mass because she was a catholic. I remember then when I was scared of how to go about everything my mother told me before she passed, my friend, Jennifer was the one that stayed with me during that trying period. She kept encouraging me that I am a strong lady with a strong will. Jennifer said one that that gave me courage “Ebun, if your mother did not see you as being capable to handle her funeral with details she wouldn’t have been telling you because you are not the only child.” That was when I started getting my confidence. It is precisely eight years that my mother passed but the first one year was one I will not forget easily because I was close to my mother and we were used to speaking on the phone at 11pm every night and when she passed the vacuum was there which became difficult for me to erase but as years go by it keep fading away.
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A True Story Of Two lovers In Relation To The Story Of A Boy And A Girl In The “Hills Like White Elephants” Written By Ernest Hemingway. Introduction The night was long gone as we could only hear the birds sing, yet it was a sad night for me and maybe for Wale because it can be difficult to predict the man when such situation arises. A very sad and emotional true story of two lovers like the girl and the boy in the story “Hills Like White Elephants” written by Ernest Hemingway. This Is My Story I was bleeding profusely in the middle of the night and this time I could not talk because I was weak. “I have been here from 10:PM, there is no improvement,” Wale said. “Should I call your parents or your sister” I still could not talk. Wale picked the phone and called my sister. “Hello dear, how are you feeling, do you want to see Dr. Aina?” my sister asked me on the phone but I could not respond, so she decided to speak with Wale. “Okay ma, I will call mummy to send a car and driver" "am not in the right sense of mind to drive” was Wale’s response to my sister. “Eby, Eby, I will call mummy to send us car so we can go to see the Doctor” “Hello ma, Eby is not feeling good" "she has been bleeding since I got here last night” Wale told mummy on the phone. At the hospital, all necessary tests were going on as I was taking drip. “What is the problem Doctor, is she okay” “Will she make it?” “Is the pregnancy still there?” “Doctor, please, I don’t want her to die” “She has been bleeding since I got to her place last night” Doctor Aina finally responded “she will be fine, it is just a matter of some hours” “What about the pregnancy” asked Wale" “do you really feel you are ready to be a father” but Wale kept quiet as Doctor Aina asked him the question. “I really love Eby but we did not plan the pregnancy” I was scared of losing her if I suggest we get rid of the pregnancy” “She is just three months gone” “Any time I remember she is pregnant I get confused because am not ready.” “Anyway, Eby is okay and the pregnancy is fine” said the Doctor. “Doctor, I thought Eby lost the pregnancy due to loss of blood” Wale said. Three days later, Eby was discharged from the hospital but two week after Eby was discharged, she went for another test to confirm the pregnancy but unfortunately Eby lost the pregnancy. Eby was devastated as well as her parents and other family members. Wale on the other hand did not show any form of loss rather he was just his normal self. A few days later when Eby went to visit Wale, she was surprised to hear what came out of Wale’s mouth on the phone with his friend. “I should be going to see her later in the day if I don’t see her here by 4:PM” “I hate to say this Pius, am so relieved that she lost the pregnancy” “I have lots of plans ahead of me and not child bearing” “I was only pretending” As a matter of fact I put a substance in her tea and food the previous day” “I only went to her apartment that night to confirm if the drug worked” “That was why it took me long to call her family members” Immediately Eby heard this conversation, she turned back and never returned to Wale. This is a true story that happened to me 2007 in Nigeria. I still want to have children and I know I will very soon. This Is A True Story Of Emotions Depicting Margaret Experience In A Memoir” My Name Is Margaret” Written By Maya Angelou
Introduction As I struggled to save the laptop from falling, my head hit the edge of the bed-set in my bedroom with blood gushing out. “Oh my head, my head” as I kept screaming and crying. This is based on an emotional true life story that is similar to that of Margaret in a memoir written by Maya Angelou Tittle: “My Name Is Margaret." My Experience As A Married Immigrant I was pacing back and forth in our two bedroom apartment, thinking what next step to take considering the situation that I have found myself. It is obvious that this is not what I asked for but the fact is that I am in this mess already. I held on to one thing, to move forward and never allow anyone push me around. “Whatever money you make must be given to me as I have told you earlier because I am in-charge here” was what Clarke said when he came into the living room. I married my husband precisely five years ago but Six months after I joined him here and officially resigned from my job in my country Clarke started putting up some form of attitudes that I never imagined. He threatened me with everything one can think of because I came to his country. “Tell your father to send me fifty thousand dollars or else I will lie to the immigration that you married me for papers” said Clarke. The humiliation went on and on but my father would call me every day from my country advising me to be patient. “What is my offence, did he get married to me just to humiliate or use me” was what I told my brother on the phone. One day, in his usual manner of hitting me I ran into the bedroom and locked the door from behind, he started banging and kicking the door in his usual manner of humiliation. I cried my ass out as I sent texts to my colleagues to let my supervisor know I won’t be able to be at work. A friend of mine later sent me a text that he was outside. That was how I was able to escape through the back door after nine hours. The next day, I got a letter from USCIS office that my ten years residence permit has been approved, I thought I was dreaming. When he started his usual way of his threat, just like Margaret, I faced him right there and warned him to mind the way he talks to me. “I am tired of your threat and humiliation, for your information, learn how you talk to me because I am not ready to take any form of embarrassment from you anymore”. He was surprised and from that moment, he knew I got my confidence back. “My Name Is Margaret"
By Maya Angelou “English Composition 100” By Sabatino Mangini 02/03/2019 Reviewed By Florence Ebun’ Jossy INTRODUCTION “That clumsy nigger. Clumsy little black nigger” was the word Mrs. Cullinan used to describe Margaret when her china plate dropped on the floor of her kitchen by Margaret. The story is center around the ill-treatment melted upon the blacks by the white folks. The deprivation, humiliation and subjection were some of the agonies blacks faced back then just for being blacks. Are blacks still under subjections and humiliation that could be referred to as racial discrimination? I would leave everyone to ponder over this after reading the story. STORY Margaret unlike the regular white girl could not afford to enjoy the basic essence of being a girl, rather she had to work to make some money, and the available job she could get at that period of time was to work as a domestic staff for Mrs. Cullinan, this, Margaret said in her statement “During my tenth year, a white woman’s kitchen became my finishing School” because she really needed the money. Miss Glory, who also is black and a cook volunteered to teach and assist Margaret on how to carry out her duties which she was not used to. It was frustrating for Margaret but she needed the money. I remember when my cousins lost their father in 2005, all four boys had to start looking for something to do to make money after School. Eventually, they all started playing musical instruments in churches, it was not convenient for them but they needed the money. Mrs. Cullinan had her own medical challenges of barrenness which Margaret and others were aware of but that did not stop Mrs. Cullinan from having fun with her friends. I remember where Margaret made a comment of sending her on errands using this statement “If she had had her own children, she wouldn’t have had to ask me to run a thousand errands from her back door to the back door of her friends” She may be doing that so as to avoid depression realizing that all her organs are removed. I for instance is yet to have children and I know how depressed I could be sometimes but I do feel okay having fun with friends. It was not something of pride to work as a domestic staff but could be more depressing, frustrating and humiliating when an employer had to change staff names in order to suite their own purpose. Hallelujah’s name was changed to Miss Glory twenty years back when she was employed as a cook by Mrs. Cullinan while that of Margaret was also changed for the purpose of convenience. This was emphasized in Margaret’s statement “The next day, she called me by the wrong name”………., “want Mary to go down to Mrs. Randall’s and take her some soup. She’s not been feeling well for a few days”. Miss Glory’s face was a wonder to see. You mean Margaret, ma’am. Her name is Margaret”, that was how much the blacks were being ridiculed then. According to Margaret “every person I knew had a hellish horror of being “called out of his name. It was a dangerous practice to call a Negro anything that could be loosely construed as insulting because of the centuries of their having being called niggers, jigs, dinges, blackbirds, crows, boots and spooks.” This words hurt like a sharp knife piercing through one’s throat. I have personally experienced some kind of discrimination in this country but this time, is the African Americans discriminating towards we Africans and I know how it feels. Some of them often use this phrase “You Africans have come to take our jobs, you will be deported” and it sucks because they do not understand that for an African to be working and going to School here in the United States means he or she is legal. My question once again is “Are we living in a society of discrimination”? I live you to answer the question. |
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April 2019
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