He Said I May Be The One For Him (Part Two)

Anticipation grew as the countdown began. Within days, this man I have loved, since my

son was three months old, in my womb, would be here. We talked everyday or texted

each other, in the days leading up to his arrival. It was like no time had passed

between us. I forgave him a long time ago. We are both older now and more mature.

We have both been through the hard knocks in life. Even on our separate journeys,

our lives took on a similar nature. He never married or had anymore children.

I had one more child and had no successful relationship with any other man.

He was haughty and self serving in his youth. He seems more sensitive and

caring. He has empathy in his heart now. It’s comfortable talking with him.

I just feel safe with him. I feel like I belong with him. And, We fit like a hand

and glove. He feeds my mental and my physical. And now, he can also feed

my spiritual needs too. He’s my “Big Poppa.”  When I picked him up at the airport,

we couldn’t embrace. Traffic at Ronald Reagan National airport is crazy.

Worse than your neighborhood zoo. As we drove to the hotel,

I kept feeling like I was riding with my son. It’s crazy how much alike

they look.  And that look, stopped us from being really romantic with each other.

We had sex a little and but it was not fulfilling. We left the motel early and went

home where my family was waiting. Our time with Kenneth was wonderful

and filled with laughter and fun. Even though our son shunned us and

treated us like we were the enemy camp, majority of the time.

Kenneth had bible study with me, my daughter, and my mother, twice.

And a third bible study was with my daughter and me. He made studying

the word fun. He pulled the most exciting of stories from the scripture and

elaborated on the spiritual aspects of it. It was wonderful. He cooked

breakfast and dinner for us. He also helped with chores in the yard.

He embraced my whole family and said “We’re family.” He  playfully

adopted my daughter and son as his own and had their love in return.

He gave my mom a lot of time because she is 71. He even embraced my brother,

who was going through depression. He cried, real tears, and said he hadn’t

seen a man broken in spirit like that in a long time. We didn’t get much

me and him time, (He didn’t feel right having stolen moments in my

mom’s house. He said he and I will have a better time when I come to

Florida).  When we went to the motel, before coming to the house,

his mind was on his son. He wanted to see him. When my son came home,

he stood in the foyer, shocked. They embraced each other and then he sat

on the sofa and kept this stone face the whole time until his father told him

to go to bed. I laughed at him but my heart and his father’s heart, were broken

into pieces. At one point, his father was going to leave early, but the airline would

have charged $170 more for him to leave early. So he stayed and embraced us with

love, respect, consideration, and warmth. He’s a great guy. I had great taste, when I

chose him, all those years ago. Kenneth left on November 27th at 6pm.

And, I finally let him know how I feel, though it was through unconventional means.

He ignored all the letters I wrote him in the past and he says

he don’t remember about the letters. He said he never knew how I felt.

He said, “I didn’t know you had feelings for me.” He said he never knew how

I felt about him. Yeah right! How could he not have known?

Was he that far up his own behind  that he couldn’t see the clearing in the

forest? He regrets never raising his child. He always wanted another, so he

could raise it. Seems like God didn’t allow it because he turned his back on his son,

even though he sent child support. Karma seemed to have paid us both a visit

because our son gave us both the cold shoulder. In fact, our son completely

treated all of us, Grandma included, with disdain.  Kenneth thought we were enjoying

a great relationship with his son, all these years. We showed him that his son has

been a piece of work, his whole life. I’m not angry at my son because that’s my son’s issue

and his alone. I was there for him when he needed me. I did my part as a single mom.

When my son needs me, I’ll be there for him.  As long as I get respect from him…cool!

I won’t tolerate his behavior. And, I told my son that Karma will pay him a visit soon.

I didn’t want to share my feelings with his father,completely, because he’s wishy washy,

still.  He told me about the women in his life and they were blowing up his phone while

he was here. He said,”They want to be Mrs. Michael s and I don’t have those feelings for them.”

I don’t  care.  All I know is that I don’t want that. I don’t need that drama at my stage in life.

I am passed that point. I want to appreciate the second leg of my lifespan with a partner

I can grow old with. Someone who is on a spiritual walk, like I am. God unburdened my heart

when He freed me from addiction to drugs and men. I am on an good path now.

Kenneth can and will tramples hearts like an ice crusher.

But, it was wonderful having him here. He is running from his true calling as a minister

and its eating him alive. He drinks excessively which I think will change once he accepts his

calling. I found that we are so much alike its scary. We like the same foods, the

same music, the same everything, and we converse and connect, so easily…

we’re soulmates but he has to discover that on his own because he is the man. I

love him so much, I am willing to wait because love is patient.

He and I both filled the house with laughter and love throughout the

Thanksgiving holiday. It was awesome, having him here.

I sent him a text and told him I love him and that I will

always love him. I told him I trust him and I respect him.

He said he feels the same way. And I left it there because I’m scared

that he will trample my heart the way he did years ago. I know he has

changed for the better. He’s not the same haughty man so full of himself.

He’s warm and sensitive now. I won’t romanticize everything because

there are things about him that I don’t care for like his thoughts being

trapped “inside” the box. but I am waiting and hoping he grow out of it when

he stops running from his true calling. Our plane tickets have been purchased

for me, my daughter and my youngest son. Joshua will just miss out on the

wonderful opportunity to bond with his father. Stay tuned for part three of this saga.

by Joan Farley Nyobe

Posted in Family, Love, Relationship, Spiritual | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

It’s More Than Love

It’s more than love, I can feel it.

It’s more than sex, for it’s beyond the physical.

Our relationship has taken on a spiritual realm.

He takes care of my mental, my physical and my spiritual needs.

I respect this man and I trust him, completely.

I would submit myself, entirely and revolve totally around him.

I know its him…he’s The One. I can feel it.

He nurtures my soul…he completes me.

He’s a gentle giant, capable of greatness in God’s eyes.

As soon as he wants me and he needs me…I will be there.

Because,  it’s more than love…with him.

by Joan Farley Nyobe

Posted in Love, Relationship | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

He Said I May Be The One For Him (Part One)

It was late one evening towards the end of November. The night was cold and Winter was 
making itself known. The news predicted a wind chill factor of -10 celcius. I was driving to 
a study session planned with a friend from class. And at 7:30pm, we were meeting at Walter 
Reed Hospital in Washington, DC. Caren, a bright, 21 year old female, was the only person 
I felt comfortable with in the short period we had known one another. Our friendship had
taken off from the onset. She too, wanted to become an attorney and had all the intellectual 
qualities to be a good attorney. However, she was diagnosed with Manic Depressive Illness.
And because she always have these episodic moments, the American Bar Association may never 
admit her. But I enjoyed her company anyway.

As I drove into the circle of Walter Reed's NCO club, my eyes became engorged beyond my 
wildest expectations. I was instantly captivated by a military speciman possessing superior 
masculine qualities from the exterior. He was 6'4" tall, with dark features and light 
complexioned black male. And to complete this perfect picture, he was standing in front of 
his Porsche 911 Targa. Call me a material girl but his car had a whale tail and I went 
crazy. I was driving my Porsche 944 and felt ot was in the stars. I belonged with this guy and I 
had to have him. I was so caught up in the moment, I forgot what Caren looked like. I had to 
wait for her to recognize me instead. While waiting for that to happen, I wanted to get this 
man's attention. I had a killer body and thought I would try my hand. It was night time, so 
I left the headlights on and got out of the car, with no coat on, in 32 degree, freezing 
temps, walked around the car, only to find out that it didn't work. He didn't look over. I 
had not gained his attention. It was too cold, so I hurried and got back in the car, where 
the heat was blasting. I looked over at him only to see him drive away and pass right by me. 
He neither blew his horn or gave any acknowledgement like other Porsche owners do. And, I 
distinctly smelled an aroma of pure arrogance in the air that followed as he drove by.
Moments later, I drove off too. Obviously, Caren didn't recognize me either. While driving 
home, I felt vulnerable and I ached all inside for a man I could call my own. I was weary 
from dead end relationships. My last boyfriend was a Vietnam Veteran who didn't have a clue 
that the war was over. Everyone was looked at like a Vietnamese "Gook." He always had his 
guard up and did not want a commitment. We spent 2 and a half years together and it was 
definitely a dead end. The smartest move I ever made was leaving that guy alone. Anyway, I 
had to find out who this mystery military man was. And, I hoped like hell he didn't belong 
to anyone else. There was now a new guy in my life. without a proper introduction. 
When Caren and I saw each other again, we chewed each other out for not recognizing each 
other beforehand. So, after class, I bluntly asked who was the military guy that has me so 
captivated. "Who is he?", I pondered quietly. My entire being needs to know him. I was so 
infatuated and I absolutely had to know him. So, I asked, "Caren, I saw this guy and I know 
you gotta know whi he is." She said, "Who girl?" I then blurted the details, tall, light 
skinned, high top fade, and everything else I want in a man. She said, "You gotta be talking 
about Kenneth. I said, "Whatever, who is he and how do I get to meet him?" I don't know 
girl. He came in from Germany and I don't know that much about him but I do see him around 
the base. I said, "Cool", and let my wheels of thought churn away. In my mind, I was going 
to know this man.
When I saw caren again, I gave her a seductive photo of me and on the back it read, "If your 
interested, give me a call." I gave her instructions to give it to kenneth as soon as she 
saw him. She called the next night and said, "I gave him the picture. he didn't say 
anything. But he did get the picture." I said OK and felt a little disappointed. I thought 
he would've jumped at the chance. I'm not saying I was all of that but I looked good enough 
for him. Oh well, as I gave up on him quickly, thinking he did not want me like I wanted 
him. Well, two days went by and on the second night, the phone rings and a male voice says, 
"Hello, uh, I have this picture..." And away we went. We me. He came to my home in complete 
Army uniform. I thought to myself, "What a fine specimen of male proprietary origin. This 
dude was fine."

He was in college too so we were intellectual with each other, listened to jazz and drank 
Lowenbrau beer. It was a wonderful first meeting. I walked him to the door when our first 
meeting was over and he kissed me at the door. His tongue envaded my mouth and his lips were 
so sweet. I closed the door behind him and watched as he pulled off. "Was I dreaming?" I 
didn't care. I was elated and immediately called my girl. "Caren, you'll mever guess who 
just left?" "I can't guess girl. Who?" I said, "Kenneth." And we both laughed as I went over 
every detail with her. I told her, "He's mine." I fell asleep knowing that he and I would 
see each other again really soon.
The next time he came over, he was wearing shorts and it was 20 degrees outside. Didn't 
matter to me. He was fine as hell. We went down stairs, listened to jazz and made our way to 
my bedroom. And as he laid his body on top of mine, I softly asked, "Will you repect me in 
the morning?" We laughed and he said, "You're crazy." And we fell in to a deep sensual 
elongated kiss and I whispered, "Don't hurt me, as I melted in his arms. We made beautiful 
love that transcended all others. He was so gentle and caring, warm and affectionate. I 
wanted this man to be so much more than a casual inference. I wanted him to be my husband. 
We continued to see each other, going to clubs, eating out and doing things that couples do.
He would call me and we'd talk for hours. He would read me scriptures or poetry. He would 
say things like, "You could be the one for me." I was over the moon with glee. Then all of a 
sudden, I missed a period. Started having morning sickness and didn't know how to tell 
Kenneth. I was in love with him but didn't tell him that either. 
I think I was afraid of his stature. He was 6'4" tall and I was 5'2" tall at the time. With 
his military training, he was somewaht authoritative in a laid back atmosphere. Like, he had 
strong views about things. He had already been married once before and OK. Chickens clucking 
in the background. I was just plain scared to tell him. So, the last night we were together, 
I got up to leave in the middle of the night, instead of waiting for day break. He looked up 
when I got up and said, "You leaving?" I said, "As quiet as its kept." I knew then that I 
wouldn't see him again. And he wouldn't know about the baby. That way, he can leave me 
before knowing about the baby, to turn around and leave us. 
I had battle scars to prove that theory. My first child's father left me while I was 
pregnant and wound up marrying that person and never formally broke up with me. One day he 
was my man and the next day, poof, he was gone. So I took the least painful route. This guy 
was so handsome and well spoken, I figured he would leave me anyway. I just beat him to the 
punch. So, I didn't call him anymore and he did not call me either. I settled into handling 
my pregnancy alone. I told friends that Kenneth was fighting in the war overseas. I think 
Star Wars was going on at the time. I asked Caren if she seen kenneth but she said she had 
not seen him in a while. Then, I got worried that he had indeed left the area. I even 
enlisted the help of The Army Locator to assist in finding my man, because I may need him.
My pregnancy was going along fine. I had some type of pregnancy related sickness everyday 
but it didn't stop my flow. I continued to go to school until I couldn't go anymore. Towards 
the end of the pregnancy, I had a glitch that tried to wreak havoc on my unborn child. I 
went to a wake with a friend who's boyfriend's mother died. At the wake, she and he 
boyfriend got in a fight. As we were walking back to her car, I just wanted to get me and my 
daughter back home safely. She got in the car and unlocked the door for me and my daughter. 
Before we could get in the car, her man jumped in my place, closed the door and started 
beating up my friend. He snatched her purse and took money out of it and then jumped out of 
the car. Me and my daughter got in and as we were leaving, her man rammed the back of her 
car with his car. We screamed and just wanted out of this. By the time I got home, I was 
spotting and thought my baby was harmed. Docs checked me out and said everything was OK and 
for me to just rest.
While resting, the Army locater letter came and I found out that Kenneth had never left the 
area. He was right here in town and just didn't bother to call and check on me. I felt we 
were really over then. But knew he needed to know about his baby. Too scared to call him, I 
let Caren tell him the news. I still didn't hear from him. My baby was gone but I had a 
piece of him that would be with me forever. The baby was born with the umbilical cord 
wrapped around his little neck but he was healthy. The doctor gently un loosened the cord 
from his neck and spanked his bottom. He let out a loud cry. He was cleaned off and placed 
in my arms. A beautiful baby boy, I named, Joshua.
Two months into new motherhood, Joshua's father comes to the door. He had a friend with him 
and I guess that friend would co sign whether or not the child was Kenneth's. I went to get 
the baby and brought him out and placed him in Kenneth's arms. His friend said, "You can't 
deny it man." But that was not enough for Kenneth. He wanted a paternity test. We did that 
too and the test came back 99.9% his. He is Joshua's father. Kenneth kicked in as dad, 
immediately. He provided money, diapers and milk. But, he found it increasingly difficult to 
live here in this area. The Washington Metropolitan Area was too expensive for him. He 
decided to leave and return to Florida, his home towm. Right before he left, so I thought, I 
slid a letter under his door, professing my love for him. I don't think he got it though. If 
he did get it, it didn't make a difference because he left.
All through the years that followed, Kenneth stayed in touch. He always wanted to know what 
his son was doing and how I was. , and asked me to marry him and I said yes. But the military idea 
didn't pan out and his life went into another direction.He even thought about going back in the 
military at one pointI resigned myself to the fact that I would never have him as my own and
old him, "I'm pregnant." He said, "Wow, congratulations." I said thank you. I went from relationship 
to relationship and never found a man that compared to Kenneth. I was in relationships but something
was always missing. Not enough affection, not enough intellect and not enough money. I craved a man 
with a backbone. A man I could count on. Someone I would not be afraid to leave him for. I wanted to 
feel safe, like I did when I was with Kenneth.
Twenty two years later, Kenneth and I are talking on the phone like we normally do and out 
the blue, he wants me to search flights coming from Florida to Reagan National Airport here 
in DC. I found the cheapest flight and he gave me his credit card information and I 
completed the purchase. He then gave me specific instructions. He said, "Come to the airport 
alone and wear s dress." He then asked, "Are we going to kiss at the airport?" I said yes. 
He then asked, "Are you going to give me some loving when I come?" I said, "Of Course." I 
can never say no to him because I feel like he has complete control of me and I feel safe 
with him so, yes, I will make love with hin. He said, "How will that happen if I am staying 
there with you guys?" We are going to a hotel, straight off the plane. Then, he'll come home 
with me and stay a week. He said, "OK. Now, when I go back to Florida, I expect you to come 
down to see me." I said OK and will make the arrangements while he is here and pay for my 
trip. He said, "Pay you way down here and I'll pay your flight back." Sounds like a plan to 
me. I've never been to Florida. You see, he and I never had closure. Our story is open ended.
then he comes here, I will take care of him properly because he is my King. And I still want 
him to be my husband. Stay tuned for part two because this story is true and ongoing.
by Joan Farley Nyobe
Posted in Children, Love, Relationship | Leave a comment

Who was being tested… Me or Her?

I conducted a secret shop at a bank in Arlington, Virginia. Took about 30 minutes to get there with traffic. Traffic was actually pretty good. That is until I got to Columbia Pike. There was a little construction going on and cars had to merge to the right. A cab driver put his right signal on and indicated that he wanted to get in front of me. Not! Cab drivers are notorious for jumping in front of cars, then coming to a complete stop to pick up a passenger. They wreak havoc for cars on the road and I wasn’t having any of that. So I inched forward so he couldn’t get it. The next two cars behind me did the same thing. Will that teach the cab driver a lesson? I doubt it, but it felt good blocking him. So, I made it to the bank and conducted the shop. The representative I spoke with was very polite and professional. When it was time to leave, I noticed a little old lady standing in the lobby. She was asking people for a ride. When she saw me as I was leaving, she said, “Are you going down Columbia Pike and could you give me a ride, just two miles down the street in Pentagon City?” To myself, I said, “What’s the harm?” The lady was 4’9″ tall, petite, with a hump in her back. She was a white woman with her silver hair neatly tucked in a bun. What could she do to me? So, I said OK and proceeded to take her down the street. We went outside the bank and it had started to rain again. I pointed to my car at the parking meter but she didn’t want to get wet. OK.

She said she was going to ask someone in the bank if they had an umbrella and suggested I pull my car around. I said OK. The rain was really coming down and I remembered I had to photograph the exterior of the bank. So I quickly took pictures of the bank and ran back to the car. I started it and pulled into the lot and made my way to the front entrance. She came out and opened the door. I asked her, “Are you able to open and close the door?” It was an innocent question. She looked frail and weak. She looked at me and retorted, “Are you able to open and close the door?” I said yes and she said, “Well, so am I.” She took offense to my question and I apologized. She said she has feelings too. I felt bad for asking.

So, we make it out of the lot and at the traffic light, the rain really started to come down. She said, “You have to put your wiper blades on and you need to have it on high because the rain can completely cover the windshield and you won’t be able to see.” I put the blades on high. Then she said, “And what’s this fan blowing, it’s too hot. It’s irritating. I need air.” I turned the heat off and opened a window for her. She started messing with the window switch and I put the window lock on. I opened her window and she started playing with the button saying, “I’m trying to roll the window up.” I rolled it up to her and she said, “Thank you.” She even said, “I should have got in the back seat.” It was clear that she was irritated.

Then, she said, “My name is Karen.” I said, “My name is Joan.” But that didn’t change the strange vibe I felt with this woman. Driving a little ways up the street, and she says, “You may want to get in your right lane, there’s construction up ahead. I can see it from my side.” The implication here was that I should have seen the construction ahead but there was an SUV ahead of me. That’s why I couldn’t see like she did. But I kept quiet. Then she told me to make a right and there would be another right but there is no sign. So I made the right and at the second right, as she said, there was no sign. Soon we were at her stop. She asked that I give her a minute to get out. I waited patiently, she got out and said, “Thank you.” I told her to enjoy her weekend. She said OK and that ride was finished. I was able to breathe easy because for the last 20 minutes, this person I didn’t know, had complete control over the ride.   And, I had regressed completely to that of a small child and allowed this stranger to dominate the ride.  The burning question in my mind was: “Who was being testing; Me or Her?”

Written by Joan Farley

Posted in Life, Spiritual | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

Another Look at Inmates …From An Officer’s Point of View

“Hey you out there in the real world!, Don’t look at me as though you hold stereotypical thoughts.  I am not like every inmate and all inmates are not alike. I am not coming back here when I get out. Hell, I only have a misdemeanor charge and that was for petty theft. I am not a menace to society and I am not a recidivist. I have never been locked up before in my life. When I get out, I am going to get a job, make some money and pull myself together. There is no reason why I should wind up back in here.  I hate this place.

The stinking cells and the so-called correctional officers. Some of them think that they are above us thus, better than we are. Hello!, it’s because of us inmates, that you even have a job in the first place. Some of the officers commit the same crimes that we do. They just don’t get caught. But getting caught doesn’t mean that society is rejecting me and I am thus labeled a bad seed. It only means that I am paying for a crime that I committed and once I have paid for my crime, the wrong doing has been repented.

Don’t look down on me man!  I am human! I have feelings! I am not all bad, so why must I be treated as though I am an animal. Hey, you talk about white man and slavery times. How they used to beat on us and treat us like animals. Some of you officers are doing the same thing. Only you are degrading your own race. We are both black and we are brothers and sisters. Yet you beat on us brothers and treat us the same they did us generations ago.

“Clear the dining hall and go back to your cells,” is what you say to us as you look down on us and treat us as if we can never be as good as you are. We are then subjected to moral and physical deprivation. You deprive us of the chance to feel good about ourselves.  You take that away as you treat us as inmate numbers instead of as human beings. You forget the human qualities we do have.  You look through my jumpsuit, my jail house attire, and see nothing for you are incapable of expressing sympathy or empathy.

Placing yourselves in our shoes will without a doubt enlighten you on a few facts. Some of us are as good as you are, if not better. And for some of us, it’s not too late to mend our ways.  Remember to observe the one quality we all share.  We are all human.  We all share the same human characteristics.  Don’t look down on me and think all inmates are alike.  Hey, what if I thought all correctional officers were alike?

That they don’t attempt to correct or rectify wrongdoings as they are paid to do. They in groups beat on us and do everything but spit on us. And some of you do that too. You make us feel so bad that we feel hostile and resentful. We begin to feel hatred, first on the officers and then on society. Then we play games on the officers.  It is an exchange ideal that we do this. We retaliate in making the correctional officer corrupt.

“Get favors out of them, turn them into drug mules, make them lose their job and sometimes, just make flunkies out of them.”  Some of the officers deserve to be make fools of as they degrade our wellbeing each and everyday. We even get some of you to fall prey to our sexual whims. You see, when we get locked up, we feel bad enough.  We weren’t put here  to meet with your individual specifications. We are here to pay for a societal wrong, not to entertain your sick minds.

You, the corrupt, wear your badge for the wrong reasons. And after you have conditioned us thoroughly in a negative sense and still have the gall to call yourselves correctional officers, you then run for your paychecks as if services were rendered. I suggest you re evaluate yourself and your purpose in being here before you destroy the entire concept of corrections completely. All you are supposed to do is maintain security with a sustained level of accountability.

You lock us up and make sure we don’t escape. Then, you provide a positive environment conducive to rehabilitation. You respect our rights to which we are entitled.  We all need not be treated like animals to respond to your orders within your official capacity. Some of us are intellectually inclined and maybe more so than you are. Keeping this in mind, you will have no trouble dealing with us inmates. Remember, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound in cure.”

written by Joan Nyobe

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 6 Comments

My Mother’s Approval

For years, I cared about what my mother thought of me. I valued her opinion because she was the head of the house and I respected her. But, as I grew up, I have come to realize that I have been wasting my time and energy looking for approval from her. She could careless about me. Yes, I live in her home but I am just existing until I can do better. I got trapped with her because for a long time she was my safety net. When I fell, she would provide a cushion for me to land on. She bailed me out of trouble and she was there for me while I was self destructing. However, when I started pulling myself together and got my business back up and running, she changed. She started treating me like I was an intruder. Whenever she needs legal paperwork done, it’s all good and I’m treated like a human being. But as soon as the deed is done, right back where I started with sub human tendencies. The root of my problems starts and end with her and her family members.  I’ve been sexually or physically assaulted by many of them. And mentally abused by my mother.

I had all three of my children while home with her and she helped me raise them. Then, she took over and raised them when I was self destructing. If any problems came up with my children at school or any paperwork needed to be done, I was called and solved  the problem almost immediately. You see, I am only useful as a word-smith. Once my usefulness is over, I am thrown aside.  I was cool with this when I had my children but now that they are grown, her behavior is taking a toll on me.  The older my mother gets, the worse she gets. I have been bitten by her twice, scratched and hit. I am being literally abused by an elder. I thought all of  the abuse was over with.

She wants me to pay rent right? However, there’s a 12 midnight curfew, I can’t have company, I have to beg for a bath and beg to get my clothes washed.  Just me. My kids can come and go as they please and bathe whenever.   She  just started out busting into the bathroom to make sure I was taking a bird bath. I would be completely naked and she would just charge in. She would bust into my bedroom while I’m sleeping naked.  I can’t go into full details of what I have done for her because the legality of some of it is in question.  There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her and now, I have her ass to kiss, each and everyday.  After all I have done, I get her ass to kiss. How ghetto is that?

Well guess what? I am done being her foot stool. I am done seeking her approval. She holds my children in high regard and I am cool with that but she has thrown her purse at them so much that they are stuck. Only one of the three is working at building a future. Two of them don’t know what they want and are trapped inside the box. They are not hungry and have no real desire to succeed. I never wanted that for my children. I wanted them to grow up and leave but it looks like the only way they can leave is if I leave. My credit was on the mend until my youngest son defaulted on his cellular phone bill that was in my name. $1,000 dollars in default, I have a new business and can’t afford to pay the bill, so my credit is dead again.

Instead of paying my son’s bill, my mother bought him a new laptop, new video games, gamefly and netflix subscriptions, clothes and allowed him to quit his job and just lay home. She even started a savings account for him too but the bill he left on me is OK with her. There is no value lessons being taught here. And, I’m tired. I tired of jumping through hoops trying to please someone that can’t be pleased.  When I do move and it will be soon, I won’t look back or even call for at least six months. Then, and only after six months, I’ll call back and check on my children. And help the ones that want to see outside the box.

written by Joan Nyobe

Posted in Children, Family, Love | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Easter 1964

Easter Sunday, 1964. I was all dressed up in a pink dress with white ruffles, cute white socks with ruffles and black patent leather shoes. My accessories were put together as well. I had a white hat with white gloves and a white purse. I looked very cute and I was very happy. I felt pretty for most of the day and I didn’t think anything or anyone could rain on my parade. I remember standing in the dining room with one foot on top of the other foot and my mother said, “Stop standing like that…standing like your father.” I felt proud because I loved hanging with my father and following his habits because I wanted to be like him one day.

The plan was to spend the afternoon at my grandmother’s house as we always did on holidays. However, in route to grandmother’s house, my two cousins that lived with us along with myself were dropped off at another cousins house.  I was told that he would bring us to my grandmother’s house a little later.  At our cousins house, I remember being bored out of my mind and wanted desperately to hurry up and go to my grandmother’s house. At grandmother’s house, all the grand kids would be there and I could show off and get some play time in.

We walked around the house waiting for my cousin to get dressed. He looked like an old man to me. I guess because I was 3 years old. His name was James and we had to wait around while he got dressed. Albert and Allen were the two cousins that lived with us at home. James came out and offered Albert, Allen and me a banana. We all took one and then James sent Albert and Allen in another room and told them to sit down and wait.  He took me to his bedroom where he was and sat me on the bed.

He positioned me on his lap, facing him and my legs were wide open. He put his lips on top of mine and I remember his tongue going in my mouth. Then he began fumbling with my panties, then he went past the panties and played with my vagina. He tried to slide his finger inside but I began to cry because it hurt. I saw that Albert was peeking into the room and saw what was going on. James stopped. Albert and Allen was getting restless and was wondering what was taking so long. Just as we were leaving, James told me not to tell anyone what had happened.

At grandmother’s house, I felt safe and comfortable. My mother was playing cards at the kitchen table with her siblings. She asked me if anything strange happened while I was at James house.  And I remember being so scared of him and shy around my aunts, uncles and grandmother, I went underneath the kitchen table where they were playing cards and told my mother what happened and pointed at my panties.

My mother became visibly upset and began cursing at James saying that she should call the police and have him arrested. He said that I was lying and they should not believe me. But who would not believe a 3 year old? Mommy was also mad at Albert for leaving me alone in exchange for a banana. I was deemed too young by the courts to testify at that time. I think James was forced to leave town because he was not seen or heard from for many years.

As I grew up, I later learned that James had once tried to look up my mother’s dress when she was young. And, she knew that he had a history of mental illness. From that moment on, Albert, who lived with us began molesting me regularly and until I was 11 years old. He learned from his uncle.  So I have to ask for this question begs for an answer: Why would she drop me at this perverts house with all males and I am the only girl, knowing that he once looked up her dress? Why would she allow that to happen? Then as soon as I get to grandmother’s house, she immediately asks if anything strange happened. She already had to know that something perverted happened. Why me?

written by Joan Nyobe

Posted in Children | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Am I Dreaming #3

I was a little girl, about 4 years old. We were at my grandmothers house and she lived on a horse shoe shaped street. I was playing out front and got bored, so I went around back to see what fun I could have. The back was just as boring as the front. No kids were outside playing at all. I saw someone’s door open and I just walked in un announced and without knocking. The house was three doors down from my grandmother’s house. I had no clue that I was supposed to knock first. As I walked through the kitchen, no one seemed to be home. It was awfully quiet. As I walked into the living room, there was a crib and inside the crib was a baby. The baby was laying peacefully playing with his toes. I stared at the baby wondering what it was like to be a defenseless baby and why his feet fascinated him so much.

All of a sudden, I did not see it coming. Someone grabbed me from behind. Next thing I know, I was hoisted in the air and brought back down head first into the baby’s crib. That’s when I noticed that the baby did not have a diaper on. My face was right up on the baby’s genitals and I could hear a voice say, “Suck it.” I screamed and clamped my mouth shut really tight and screamed through my closed mouth. Whoever it was tried to get me to perform oral sex on an infant.

Somehow, I broke free and was punched hard in my back. Then there was this sinister laugh that rang out as I ran from the house and back out the door I came in. I was terrified and felt like they would hurt me bad. I didn’t tell anyone. In fact, I never told anyone. You, my blog readers are the first to know about this. The situation replayed in my mind over and over until the next unfortunate situation took over my thoughts.

written by Joan Nyobe

Posted in Children | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

Child Advocate

I will always be an advocate for children. Children are being raped, murdered, and kidnapped in record numbers. As a child, I was physically assaulted and sexually molested repeatedly by different family members. Needless to say, I didn’t have a voice growing up. Situations were quickly buried under the rug. So, I stopped talking and allowed the molestations to go on undetected. But when I grew up, things just didn’t feel right. I had a cousin try to rape me when I was 17 years old. As I started working in the workplace, I was sexually assaulted and sexually harassed. Mostly because I was quiet and would regress to childhood moments and allow the incident to take place and just pray that it would be done with quickly so I could get on with my life.  What life? I spent the bulk of my years self destructing and riddled in years of low self esteem. I couldn’t stand myself. I felt God had made a horrible mistake and placed me in the wrong century. I used anything to gain some sense of sanity because I really felt like I was losing my mind. I tried prescription medicines but it only left me doped up and permeated with different side effects. I tried street drugs too and the side effects of the street variety were much worse than the prescribed medicines. I started hanging with undesirable people because I wanted to belong somewhere and my family wasn’t the place where I felt safe. The streets were by far worse than anything I had ever seen.  Jail wasn’t far off. I got picked up right along with my associates and had to go to court before I could be found innocent or charges being dropped and/or thrown out of court.

No One could help me because in order to help me, they had to dig into my past. Digging into my past brought about more self destruction and wreaked even more havoc on my life.  I struggled to find my way and wound up in a lot of trouble before the smoke finally cleared. It wasn’t until I found God that the relief finally came into play. God started removing all the undesirable people from my life. And he showed me how to clean up the mess I had made out of my life. No one can clean you up like God can. I’m still going through day to day dramas that I will explain later, but with God’s help, all things is possible.

The point of this is to show the destruction child molesting can have on an innocent child. It warps everything out of control. The child don’t realize the molestation is wrong until he or she reaches the age of majority and learn from others how wrong the behaviors was. Then that child don’t know what to do with the information learned. Self blame comes in followed by self destruction. The person may never feel clean again. I am just now at the age of 50 beginning to feel clean. Just beginning to live my life. It’s a hard struggle and I must reiterate, we have to become Child Advocates. Our children need us to be there for them. To protect them and keep them safe. Please, Let’s help them before it’s too late.

written by Joan Nyobe

Posted in Children | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

A Fake Smile!

Have you ever took the time to notice people when they smile at you? Have you ever wondered if the smile was a genuine smile or a fake smile? Well, I have been observing for years now and can definitely tell the difference. And, I feel that I must share this distinction with you so that you, too, will be able to distinguish the two.

When a person smiles at a comment or just at your presence, watch that smile and time it! Yes, use a stopwatch if you must. If the smile disappears within a nano second, IT IS A FAKE SMILE!   Genuine smiles are seen from the eyes. The eyes smile too. Many people don’t understand that. If your heart is genuine, when you smile, your eyes will smile too.

Why would people bother giving a fake smile? Its a facade created to mask their true feelings. The heart can not lie so you can instantly see when a smile is genuine. True smiles can last up to 60 seconds or longer. Where fake smiles disappear almost instantly.

All in all, you want to know who is real and who is fake! The distinction further enhances your effectiveness in communication. For example, if the person is phony, you know to avoid that person, period. Come on, life is too short for the foolishness. Why would you want to be a fake and phony individual.

Posted in Life, Relationship | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments