Wendy's Diary

We were warned. Emails. Broadcasts. Flyers. “Store water.” Some people prepared. Some overprepared. Some ignored it. I ignored it. Until I got home from the salon, itchy from stubborn strands of hair, already planning a long, satisfying bath. I turned the tap. Nothing. No drip. No warning sound. Just silence. And in that silence, reality spoke loudly: We are dangerously comfortable with what we think is permanent. By noon, it was official—state of emergency. By evening, status had evaporated. Executives carried buckets. Bosses stood in queues. People who never lifted anything heavier than ego were now balancing jerrycans on their heads. Class disappeared. Water does not recognize titles. Scarcity does not respect hierarchy. Need humbles everyone. And then came the irony. The same villagers who once fetched water from us… were now the ones we went to. Power shifted. There was no VIP access. No protocol. No preferential treatment. First come. First serve. H...

It's been ringing in my head since sunday; that song by the dynamites#akpo aza .THat song brings back memories and also reminds me of God's faithfulness .while listening to it ,I was smiling and even nodding my head and a colleague asked "what could be soo interesting?". She may not understand but I know how that song was an anthem for my aunt ,how she sang it and cried ,how she will say" chi,you are leaving ,who will stay with me now?you know I have no child." That wasn't a funny or interesting period but our human eyes couldn't visualise what God had in stock and naive me kept wondering why she seemed to like crying but I later understood her pain and we told God to make her stop crying especially on Sundays.yes, she cried more on Sunday and her reason was that she Will go to God's house and see him bless others evident in their testimonies yet,she wasn't partaking of the blessings. Today,she's a proud mother of two sets of twins (two...