The Journey of a thousand miles begins with having a place to go to. Or do you want to just up and go without a place in mind?
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The journey of a thousand miles begins with proper packing. Create a checklist. What do you mean you forgot your boxers?
The #journeyofathousandmiles has to have a purpose. What are you going to do there? Why are you going there? Who are you going there to see? When are you going there?
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The journey of a thousand miles begins with enough money. You get? No? So, where do you think you're going to?
The journey of a thousand miles begins telling your loved ones where you're going to. Don't gaan loss. I won't do hashtag and retweet.
The journey of a thousand miles begins carrying enough foodstuff for your hosts. Don't go and eat all they have and still ask for transport fare
The journey of a thousand miles begins with emptying the refrigerator, turning off the lights, shutting off the taps, locking your doors and windows, making sure your nosey neighbours don't know you're out.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a travelling companion. Nothing cuts shut a long trip like a great gist partner or book.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with good earphones, so, the person next to you can shut up and not attempt to start a conversation.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with a fully charged phone, data and a 50,000 mAH power bank. Candy Crush, movies, and music. And you'll need your host to know you've arrived.
Not stand by the roadside and ask strangers to "borrow" you their phone so you can make a call.
The #journeyofathousandmiles is not advisable for now. Stay in your house. Rona is still out and about.
The journey of a thousand miles is👏🏾 not👏🏾 necessary👏🏾 right 👏🏾now👏🏾! Look how you made me say it twice. You no dey hear word!
The journey of a thousand miles begins with getting to the airport on time. Not ten minutes to departure and crying like egbere, disturbing your ancestors because check-in has ended.
The journey of a thousand miles begins with emptying your stomach. Yes, purge. Don't eat hot beans. Don't eat eggs. Don't buy everything sold by the road.
Not every time, "Driver, I want to piss," and sweating blood because of stubborn shit. Else, the journey go tire you and us.
The #journeyofathousandmiles is not by force. If you do only a hundred miles, will you die?
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The journey of a thousand miles is not complete until one mummy or uncle has prayed, preached, and collected "whatever God has laid in your heart to give to the ministry."
Okay, I've run out of stuff to write 😁.
What does your journey of a thousand miles begin with? It can be funny, quirky or serious. Go ahead and share with us.
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I'm reminded of one wild, ongoing miracle God did for me a few years ago.
You see, at the time, things were really tough for me and my siblings. We drank garri every day. So much so that we began to purge . Then one night, we ran out of garri. That meant premium hunger.
Desperate, I checked the kitchen's top shelf to see if there was anything left. Luckily, I found a bowl of garri. It'd been there for so long, it was almost totally black with mold.
Because we were very hungry, I rinsed that garri like five times until it was lighter in colour.
Then I added water and the four of us drank it. As we ate, I wept. I asked the Lord if he was happy to see us eat such a meal. Hadn't he told us Matthew 6: 25-26, not to worry about basic things like food? Yet, see us see daily garri.
This is your reminder - that God is intentional about you.
Quick story.
We all know that in the Nigerian Constitution, cooking gas always runs out on Sunday. Well, ours behaved out of character and finished on Saturday evening, just as my sister was making stew.
She was so exhausted and couldn’t go refill it. Having just recovered from a nasty bout of malaria and feeling much better, I decided to go. I hefted the 12KG cylinder on my head, much to the amusement of one of my neighbours, stepped outside the gate, and hailed a bike.
After refilling, the young man at the station helped place the cylinder on my lap. It was HEAVY!
We were a scant minute from my gate when I realised that the bikes usually stop at the gate. Unless you’re carrying a big load. Then again, the gate is always closed.
When I was about seven years old, I represented my school at an event. As my father dropped me off at the venue, he asked me if the school was bringing me back home.
I said yes, that the school had arranged for a bus to take me home and he didn't need to come back for me.
When the event ended, I couldn't find any of my teachers. The only classmate I found, her parents came for her. Turns out, there was no bus; everyone had left on their own.
Despondent and terrified, I squatted down on the steps of Sacred Heart Cathedral and quietly began to cry.
How was I going to get home? My house was far away. I didn't know the way, being that I was a child who was chauffered everywhere. Why had I not just told my dad to come for me?
As I squatted there crying, I suddenly heard a familiar voice behind me. The voice of my father.
*pushes bedroom door open and stomps inside daughter's room*
"Your mother said she was going for only ten days. It's been four days and she's not yet back. If I talk now, they'll say I'm restricting her freedom."
"Daddy, it's only been four days!"
"Ehen? Four days, ten days, what's the difference? What's she going to do there that she can't finish in four days and come home? Must she stay the whole ten days?"
"Awwwwn...you're missing her."
"Me? Miss who? Mtscheeeww. A woman who has been married for so many years, yet is so comfortable abandoning her matrimonial home for what I don't know."
A few days ago, someone posted that they made okro soup with ₦1200 and there was a furore. A good number of people derided the author and said it wasn't possible. Now, I cannot tell you if it is impossible, but I can tell you about...
Mesuur, who lives in a lungu (ghetto) in one of Abuja's suburbs. She sells buns and occasionally, adds half a crate of Coca Cola to her merchandise. She couldn't make her rent this year and had to solicit for funds.
Her rent is ₦36,000.
A year.
Yes, for ₦3000 a month, she gets to live in a very lowly box that's made mostly of sand, with cement slapped on in patches. The ceiling is made of cartons and cardboard stitched together. Rats run across it and every so often, their droppings fall into her room...
A lady who lives in my friend's compound, lost her husband and his people showed up from the village two days later to collect everything from her.
As they began to harass her to bring the documents for the house, the car keys and cheque books, a neighbour overheard them.
He went and called three other men who were around in the compound and briefed them on what was happening. These men dressed up; one of them, a policeman who was off duty, put o his uniform. Together, they went to her door and knocked.
One of her brothers-in-law opened the door and told them to go away, that they were having a family meeting.
The three men ignored him and barged into the house. They said they were from the bank, that the late man owed millions in debt and they were there to pack his things.