Pyemwa Samantha Deshi

Vol 4 Book 7 The heroine of our story enters Chapter 7 feeling grateful for the journey so far. She reflects on the valleys in the volumes and chapters past and as she relives her experiences, she sees that she’s been climbing up, wind-aided and God-powered for a long time. As she reflects on God saying He will cause her to walk on her high places, she hears Him whisper a name- Mountaintop Woman! And that’s how she can tell that He has written this volume already and all she has to do is to star in the story He has written. The 365 pages may look blank to her but they aren’t really. He’s written them in invisible ink. And she knows that every time she gets to a page and sees what He’s written, she’d be full of wonder at what He’s written. It’s a page-turner and a bestseller. It’s a compelling tale of how he brought a girl from the valley to the mountain. It’s a sweeping tale of the view above. It’s exciting, insightful and thought provoking. The Mountaintop Woman is grateful for all of it.

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(Re)Introduction My name is Pyemwa. Not Pyenmwa or Peymwa or Pemua or Penmwa. It’s Pyemwa- 6 alphabets, no N. It means -in Pyemwa’s translation- “bringer of good fortune.” In literal Ngas it is “they are lucky”. I prefer my own translation because it carries the meaning more robustly. My middle name is Samantha. Not Samanta or Samwan or any other derivative. Samantha is NOT my first name. It’s my middle name- a name I gave myself in SS3 and registered it into my SSCE. I lifted it off my Topz devotional because it was cool and I learned it meant “the listener”. (Debatable because the internet doesn’t seem to corroborate this) Fun fact, my given Christian name is Deborah. I dropped it because it was too boring and now, I wish I kept it. But I’m Deborah - wise, intelligent, strong, courageous, passionate and warrior-like. My surname is Deshi. Not Dashe. Deshi- in Ngas, “the child who was born feet-first.” In Pyemwa translate, “the one who hit the ground running”. Deshi is my great-grandfather and that’s all I know about him. He died way before our time but we keep his name alive. This post is a clarification and a request. That all who collaborate with me should take my name seriously- because I do. This is an apology to myself: for letting it slide when my name was misspelled. I am going places and my name will introduce me to a world getting to know me. Every name I bear is steeped in history and forms an identity I love. Dear Pyemwa, I’m sorry for condoning it when your name was abused. From now, I will treat you with the weight and honour that you deserve. And I will see that the world treats it the same.

So I just cried in front of the cameras as we unveiled this magazine at the Jos Book Fair. I’m grateful that this honours not only me but the single greatest influencer on my life and path- my father. I think of him everyday. I dream of him all the time. Last night, I dreamed of him again- which likely explains why I’m this emotional today. When you watch the videos of me ugly-crying, may it inspire you to read a book.

Tomorrow, I’ll be at the unveiling of the magazine at the Jos Book Fair. I’m especially excited because I’m this year’s cover personality. Thank you to the team at Jos Book Fair for the honour which I don’t take lightly. If you’re in Jos, let’s meet at National Library for the magazine Launch.

Today, I got a cash transfer from a friend. There is no reason for it. No debt to be paid. No work that I did for him. Just a I-thought-of-you-and-decided-to-send-you-money. I’ve been smiling at my account all day- even though today was school fees payment day and Madam’s fees aren’t inconsequential. As the day winds down, I’m not thinking of what went out but that someone cared enough to think about me randomly and send me a cash gift. This morning I looked at the collection of soaps, bath gels and my self-made black soap arranged on my bathtub, saw a bottle of pink bath gel- half used at the moment- and felt grateful. It was part of a Christmas gift package- sent from another city by someone who hesitated when she thought of sending it to me. So she sent a tentative message and said “We weren’t friends like that, so I don’t know how you’ll see this…” And I felt humbled, blessed- deeply grateful. As I use the bath gel or the shimmering oil, I feel these emotions swirling again. For the next two weeks, I’m conducting a training- the opportunity given by someone who would best describe me as “someone I know.” This morning again, I was reflecting on this and wondering how to thank her for opening a door. That is my life as I experience it. My world is made up of many gifts from people at different levels of relationship. Some know me, others don’t. There are gifts of money and material things, gifts of words and compliments (the other day, I thought someone’s account was hacked when he reached out to pay me a compliment), gifts of relationships and networks, gifts of goodwill and lofty thoughts. My life is full of gifts that I don’t deserve and for each, I am filled with wonder and gratitude. It is a reminder that God is good even in a very bad world. That kindness is abundant in a hostile world. That she who has people is richer than she who has only money. To everyone who has given me the things that make me rich, this is to say to you once again that I am grateful.

Lately I’ve been preparing my niece Sylvia for running her future household in ways that were different from my own time. Here’s the list. 1. I keep reminding her, nagging her even, that it is not her work to bear the domestic burden of our house. Yes, she’s the oldest so she runs our home. But I expect her to share the chores to everyone, namely daughter (13) and son (23). Her work is oversight and not labour. 2. I ask her to assign tasks to son and to call him out when he shirks from his responsibilities. This is despite the fact that he works and heavily contributes financially to the upkeep of the house. By doing so, I’m making her to normalize the expectation that her husband will share domestic chores as she shares earning. She also learns to be assertive enough to express her displeasure on the few days that he doesn’t do his chores. She will marry a partner not a boss. 3. I make her think about buying stuff in bulk as against going to the junction everyday. It’s a lesson to expect abundance. It is also how i communicate that she should prioritize running a home without stress. Womanhood must not be judged by how exhausted one is at the end of the day. 4. I scrutinize her pending relationships and I’m extremely vigilant against bullies. She’s a tiny person and quite soft. I don’t want her with a man who uses his strength against her. I encourage her to find a man who nurtures her and delights in friendship and growing together. 5. The other type of relationship I caution against is one where the power dynamics would be unbalanced- no alpha males, no traditional hardliners and nobody who is so much older than her that her default is to call him sir. 6. I force her to relax. When our home is not impeccable, it doesn’t mean we cannot live in it. Sylvia is a perfectionist especially as it concerns me. I want her to relax around me because if she does, she’ll relax around her spouse. 7. I ban her from being over-apologetic. Saying sorry too many times is not a symbol of humility. I want her to own to her actions but not to grovel. Confidence is a big requirement for life.

In 2018, we were all assigned to a sensitive assignment in church- the finance team. We were required to count and account for the all the giving in church. The only reason we learned was because the church had seen each of us as trustworthy. So we began an assignment together and slowly, it became a friendship. Over time, we began to exchange stories and jokes and we shared the word with each other and all. And then we started hanging out to share food or do something fun together. We were relieved from our assignment after about five years of service but our friendship was here to stay. In addition to being some of the smartest people I know, this my crew is also the godliest and the most authentic. We love good food and ambient spaces amongst other things. We love the good life. First we nicknamed ourselves The Enjoyment Brethren and then we changed it over time to The Soft Life Crew. Friends with solid Godviews and lifeviews are a serious blessing and every interaction leaves us all refreshed. Today, we had an extra special reason to celebrate. Chris is getting married this Saturday and we are ECSTATIC. We organized a Jack & Jill Party for him. (Apparently, that is what a gender mixed groom pre-wedding party is called.) Thanks to my Facebook research, we chose Peregrine Hotel to hangout and it was worth it. Special shoutout to Chef Eddie, Naomi and David our servers. The food was a solid 10. (Okay, let’s make it 9.5, we wanted bigger portions). 

We shared a meaningful time together as Chris told us his amazing journey to love and we all shared what was special about him in our lives. Then we dined and prayed for him. (As the pentecostal christians that we were, there were plenty tongues and declaring of blessings.) 

I’m so refreshed from this wonderful time together.

Why is Plateau an Orphan? On a peaceful evening when the people sauntered in their neighbourhood, enjoying the evening breeze after a hot day, armed thugs came and sprayed them with bullets, causing untold grief as bodies fell and blood flowed. The next morning, the people waited for their chief to arrive and when he finally did, he was in a contraption of iron which was bulletproof for he could not risk to fall the way his subjects did. But he had a large heart so he stepped into the crowd, cried with them and in his usual heartfelt fashion, he condemned the attack. Soon, he stepped back into his safe vehicle and left. He had ordered his subjects to stay at home until tempers were cool. When he let his subjects out of confinement two days after the attack, they tentatively returned to their lives and livelihoods believing they were protected. But the king had forgotten to post guards around to protect anyone and in the absence of the enforcers of law and order, chaos broke down again. Subjects were clubbed in public, people disappeared, there was more chaos, anxiety and pain. Another day spent in anguish and anger. And then they heard that the monarch over the land was coming. They hoped the monarch would come with something stronger than condolences and condemnation because he is the monarch after all. He is where the real powers lie, where the coffers are controlled and he has an army of enforcers sworn to do his bidding.

I went to bed at midnight. At 1.23,am, my son came into my room because he’d seen the disturbing videos of a mother crying over her dead son. I just held him silently and we grieved together. There are no words. My daughter submits her phone to me every evening so she’s been saved from the gory details. Let me prolong her childhood, protect the last vestiges of innocence before the awareness of life in this city gets etched into her mind. I on the other hand, am thinking about the horrors of an in-city shooting spree at 7:45 pm on a Sunday. At 3:30 am I woke again, head pounding, sleep cleared from my mind. Angwan Rukuba heavily etched in and along with it, the rest of Plateau. Our governance hasn’t significantly improved. Not from the days of Lalong. Not with the big stuff. Last night has just gone to show one thing- there were less attacks because the perpetrators didn’t feel compelled to attack. It wasn’t because the land was more secure. Our security has always been que sera sera. When oh when am I going to experience governance in this land that truly tackles insecurity? But we don’t care about governance; we care about politics. That’s why the volley of mud balls and all our needed criticism of government stopped when PDAPC became a reality in Plateau state. In a healthy polity, opposition plays a role. But then I know. I’m an idealist and society has no place for us. We don’t care about our people either. We care about our favourites. Or else tell me why the outrage has been selective lately. In objective terms, tell me what security measures we’ve put in place currently. Apart from waiting for America to rescue us. Explain to me why we reduced the volume on talking about the carnage in our villages and shifted our focus to 2027 (re)elections. We don’t care about the incongruence of big picture, we have perfected the art of deemphasis. The well oiled PR machines will silence what they want to be silenced and magnify what they want to be loud. I’m wondering who will speak for Plateau’s vulnerable and it’s fallen.

Facebook banned me for the very first time. I had to verify I was a real person and make plenty ‘mug videos’ for want of a better home. I suspect my account was reported because I’ve been educating people on money-draining schemes. The funny thing is those posts are only moderately engaged because many will hold on to their right to dupe themselves. So maybe I should hold my peace. Except that I don’t scare easily. If I have more posts to make, I’ll make them. I may be saving only one person or maybe nobody. Still, I’ll exercise my right to free speech. Thank you Facebook for the apology. It is accepted.

The Name of Jesus as a Ponzi Tool Yes, yes, yes. The name of Jesus will be used to make you part with money. The reason is that we have learned the concept of ‘blind faith’. Like every other principle, the balance is also necessary. ‘Blind faith’ must be balanced with ‘test all spirits’. I remember the first and only time I ‘invested’ money in a Ponzi scheme, we had the meeting in the conference room of a gospel ministry. The presenter was finely dressed in a sharp suit, had the air of a preacher and drove a 2006 Camry- in 2009. He had a declaration for us and we recited it with vigor. He talked about how wealth was our birthright as Christian and talked about the ‘spiritual warfare’ of wealth and how there was a system designed to fight believers. Of course, we put in our money. Of course, we all lost it. While I learned my lessons, there are still many people 17 years later, eagerly waiting in line to ‘invest’ money. And the name of Jesus is sprinkled in somewhere. Let me describe how this is done. 1. The owner/promoter of the scheme speaks in a church or a religious gathering. 2. They start and/or end the session with prayer. This makes it look more spiritual. 3. You know the investor- he/she is in your church, likely a worker or better still, has a title as pastor. There is sha a platform. 4. When the money gets stuck, it is explained as a spiritual issue- a license hasn’t been given in CBN because they’re Christians etc. 5. The origin story of the investment usually gets as e be. (I remember hearing one about American christians raising a $1 billion fund to help christians. American Christians ke. Una know those people kuwa? People that believe in the righteousness of capitalism will give money for them to share to una? 6. The name of the scheme feels slightly Christian. There is a reason the most successful scheme in Jos had the word ‘Covenant’ in it. 7. Because they are part of your community of faith, when they fail, you will be encouraged to ‘exercise grace’ and ‘cover the brethren’.