My Journey


Graduation week. I was fatigued, mentally, even before it began and although I turned to exercise to recuperate, It only seemed to worsen with physical stress. The only person this was harder on was my sister. My beloved Viktor was on an emotional rollercoaster, he was trepid with anxiety. Now some may wonder why graduation would be anything but Joy and relief,  while some of you might already have guessed it. My parents, the Ukuts, were coming to town.

Naturally, I was more worried about my boyfriend’s first encounter with my parents than I was about the graduation, to further complicate things, Nigerian tradition demands a formal introduction.

Dr Otuekong Ukut has made quite a name for himself because he is determined and strong-willed. He’s the type of person you notice in a room because of the panache way he carries himself, he can be rather obdurate—kinda like me. Then you have my Mum, Mfon Ukut, a torrid energetic Leo and a colossal bundle of fun.

To God be the Glory, both my introduction and graduation hit off well and I unknowingly achieved two important milestones in my life. I will definitely not be missing med school. Next week, I will go back to posting on Fridays. Here are some of the photos of events that took place these past days. Official Grad photos will be uploaded later.

arrivederci, Dr Idara-abasi Ukut. 30/06/2018



memoirs of Alex

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Twenty-one Curses

It is Looming, like the sword of Damocles. After my post a few weeks ago regarding communications, I made some headways that shed light on my personal relationships. I had a Eureka moment, in fact, a large chunk of unprocessed memory didn’t only return, but they make sense now more than ever.

My inquisitive sister found my mum’s masters degree. The year was August 1998, which meant I was 2 years old. As a child, I recall a strong, but the unequivocal presence of my parents, ergo my mum practically raised us while my dad chased his dream, and professional success. Contrary to that, as a neonate, her presence in my life was feeble. I mostly recall my guardian, a meek tween of that era.

“What has this got to do with anything?” you may wonder. Well, last year during my internship programme, I made a friend. Anyone who knows me knows how foreign those four words are to me. We’ll call her Momo. I and Momo had a kind of bond, from the first meeting, that is uncommonly unique. Introverted as we were, with raging trust issues, we opened up about ourselves, just enough anyway. Her eyes radiated so much kindness and love, but it also unveiled grave pain. Moma is an only child, I figured she was only lonely.

She is a biologist and we both had a similar internship duration. As our programme drew to an end, Momo suffered an identity crisis. The crisis was triggered by a cascade of events that began with hallucinogen use and ended with some unresolved, suppressed memories taking center stage. Ironically, the same memories I recall now, a weak parental onus in the neonatal period.

Those few days were critical for her, as the meds needed at least a week to be potent, I dug tirelessly at my open wounds, so I could find something, anything that could retain her sanity, and perhaps my attempts were futile, but certainly, they contributed in steering her away from becoming an inpatient at the psych ward. Momo is doing much better now, and so am I.

We stumped the obstacles and moved beyond them, I’ve reflected on my life with much guidance and wisdom and reaped clarity. Unresolved matters have no hold on me anymore. I’ve dispersed all secrets and watched myself evolve from a resentful, self-doubting conch, and I owe it all to the support system I have. I have God, my loved ones, my readers, and bloggers to thank for the undefeated smile I wear on my face daily.

This post, however, is really not about me, it is for my beloved, Momo, and everyone out there who is in a constant battle with their ID. It is for those who do not want to get up from their bed in the morning and can’t sleep at night. For those who are plagued by the ghosts of what they cannot discern, and for those who, every minute they are alive is progress. I can never claim to comprehend what it feels like. This is for you. Hold steadfast, God loves you.

Like the forest before the starry night

Life pours carelessly at your feet

Yours is a gift that attracts twenty-one curses

Listen not to the echoing isolation

they shriek like maleficent lilts

An avalanche of colossal forlornness

Try as you may

Disenchantment brazes you like a whirlwind

Driving you farther from the ones that love you

Some days we’re one

The next you’re numb

A kaleidoscope of cacophony

Your willpower holds the key

It ends the cycle

To much of my pride.

Twenty-one curses are but a blessing in disguise