Yasir Murtala

My departments Week week

JUSTICE DELAYED IS JUSTICE DENIED

I was jogging this morning and I noticed a person about 1/2 a kilometer ahead. I could tell he was running a little slower than me and I thought, good, I shall try to catch him. I had about a kilometer before I needed to turn off. So I started running faster and faster.

Every block, I was gaining on him just a little bit. After just a few minutes I was only about 100 meters behind him, so I really picked up the pace and pushed myself. You would have thought I was running in the last leg of an Olympic competition. I was determined to catch him.

Finally, I did it! I caught and passed him. On the inside, I felt so good. "I beat him" Of course, he didn't even know we were racing.

After I passed him, I realized I had been so focused on competing against him that I had missed my turn. I had gone nearly six blocks past my turn and I had to turn and go back.

Isn't that what happens in life when we focus on competing with co-workers, neighbors, friends, family, trying to outdo them or trying to prove that we are more successful or more important?

We spend our time and energy running after them and we miss out on our own paths to our God-given destinies.

The problem with unhealthy competition is that it's a never ending cycle. There will always be somebody ahead of you, someone with a better job, nicer car, more money in the bank, more education, a prettier wife, a more handsome husband, better behaved children, etc.

But realize that "You can be the best that you can be, when you are not competing with anyone."

Some people are insecure because they pay too much attention to what others are, where others are going, wearing and driving.

Take what God has given you, the height, weight and personality. Dress well and wear it proudly, you'll be blessed by it. Stay focused and live a healthy life. There is no competition in Destiny.

Run your own race and wish others well

MAKURDI 2018🚎🚎

Book title: Broken promises
Chapter 3
Ntombi woke up from a nightmare in the middle of the night. In the dream she was wearing a long pink dress with lots of frills and her friend Asanda was putting a tiara with plastic flowers in her hair. They were in the changing rooms at the church hall where the auditions were going to be for the Teen Voice competition. First Ntombi thought she had won the competition and she was really excited. She was ready to walk out on the stage in front of hundreds of people and be given flowers and a recording contract. Pink wasn’t really her colour, but who cared, when she was about to become a pop star? But when she walked out into the hall there were no screaming teenage fans and no sign of a microphone. In fact the hall was full of men and women dressed in suits and formal dresses. And there at the back, next to the door was her mother. She was also dressed in a huge pink dress, with more frills and lace than Ntombi’s. For a second Ntombi thought that this might be her own wedding, and that at any minute the handsomest, coolest guy was going to appear, walk towards her and announce that he was her fiancé. But then Zakes walked in, and Ntombi realised that this was no fairytale wedding and she definitely wasn’t the princess. She was a bridesmaid at her mother’s wedding to Zakes. The dream had just turned into a terrible nightmare.
Her mother was smiling and kissing Zakes. He was smiling that fake smile. Before she knew it her mother was calling her to the bridal procession. Her sister appeared in an identical pink dress. The whole thing made Ntombi feel sick.
“What’s wrong, Ntombi?” Suddenly her mother had the face of a witch. “Can’t you be happy for us?”
“Just wait.” Zakes gripped her arm and led her away so her mother couldn’t hear what he was about to say. His breath was warm and stank of beer as he lowered his voice.“There’s no escaping from me now,” he said. “You will do exactly as I say or there will be trouble. I am the boss in your house.” He let her go and she rubbed her arm; his fat fingers had left marks on her skin. She watched as her mother took Zakes’ arm and walked up the aisle and up the stairs to the stage where a priest was waiting to marry them.
Ntombi had to do something to stop them – nobody else was. She tried to run but her feet were glued to the ground. She opened her mouth to scream but no words came out. Zakes took the ring and was about to slip it on her mother’s finger.
* * *
She must have made a noise when she woke up because her mother was standing next to her bed.
“What’s the matter, baby girl?” she said. “Did you have a bad dream?” She wasn’t a witch. She was the loving, kind mother Ntombi had known before Zakes came along.
All Ntombi could say was, “You came back.”
“Of course I came back. And I want to thank you for cooking supper and looking after your sister last night. I had a really good time with Zakes. You know things are going very well with him. I wouldn’t be surprised if…”
“No,” Ntombi said quickly. So it was true he was going to ask her to marry him.
“I was going to say, I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks me to his end-of-year work party.”
“At the car dealership?” Ntombi asked warily. She was sure there was no car dealership. Or else that it was a front for something else that Zakes was up to. Something illegal and dangerous. She had heard talk in their neighbourhood that he was in some shady business. Whenever his cell rang when she was around, he switched it off without answering it. Once he hadn’t seen her come up behind him while he was talking, and he had shouted at her.
“Never do that again, sneaking up on me like that when I’m on my cell.”
But her mother wouldn’t listen to the rumours. She said that people just wanted to bad-mouth him because he was successful.
“Zakes says it’s going to be the whole national team of sales reps at some smart hotel. I can’t wait.” Her mother sounded so proud of him. Ntombi’s heart sank. Nothing had changed.
“Thanks for the tea,” was all she said.
“It’s a pleasure.” Her mother hesitated. Ntombi waited. She knew what was coming.
“Zakes has invited me out tonight…”
“But Mama, you went out last night, and the night before.”
“I know. But he wants me to meet a friend of his, who could get me a job.”
“You have a job.”
“A better one. Please, Ntombi. I promise I’ll do something nice with you on Saturday. I promise.” Ntombi looked at her mother: she sounded like a teenager herself, pleading like this to go out with her boyfriend. And making promises she couldn’t keep.
* * *
As Ntombi watched her mother leave for work that morning she was more worried than ever. What if she gave up her job at the school for some false promise by some sleazy friend of Zakes and burned all her bridges? What if she landed up without any job? How would they survive? No, she had to find a way to make her mother see the truth about Zakes. But she would need help. This was something she couldn’t do on her own.
“Hurry up Zinzi. We’ll be late for the taxi,” Ntombi called to her sister who was pulling her short hair back into a little ponytail.
“I’m coming…”
They had to run down the sandy track between the prefab RDP houses, around the corner, past the spaza shop and across the open stretch of ground (where the council had put one swing, that was now broken) to the taxi rank on the other side.
Mrs Thembeka who sold veggies near the taxi rank, greeted Ntombi. “You girls are going to get fit the way you have to run for your taxi every morning,” she laughed. “Wait till the Olympics come to South Africa. You’ll be ready.”
Ntombi was out of breath as she pushed Zinzi onto the taxi in front of her. She gave the gaadjie her coins and sat down.
There was a whistle from the back seat. Ntombi usually avoided the older schoolboys who sat in a row at the back. They were eighteen and had a reputation as the ‘bad boys’ of Harmony High’s matric year. But this morning she made the mistake of turning around. She couldn’t tell who had whistled, but the boy in the middle of the back row winked at her. He then gave her such a smile that she couldn’t help but smile in return, before turning away quickly to look out the front window. She felt like everyone in the taxi was staring at her and she wanted to shrink under the seats. He was so good-looking and so cute – that smile was hard to resist. At school she had seen him at break time hanging out with his friends down at the sports shed. His name was Mzi. Asanda’s older sister Tilly had gone out with his older brother Themba, when she was in Grade 12, but it had ended badly. Really badly. Tilly had got pregnant and Themba had denied that it was his baby and had ignored her from then on.
“Those Mlongenis are no good,” her father used to say. “Stay clear of them.” And then when Tilly got pregnant, their dad threatened: “If I see any of you so much as speaking to one of those boys you will not be welcome in this house. You’ll be on your own. Do you understand?” Ntombi and Zinzi had nodded in silence. But where was their dad now? And was it really fair to blame the younger brother for the older brother’s behaviour. And here he was winking at her – and so cute!
All these thoughts went racing through her mind as the taxi hooted and screamed along in the fast lane. Each day was a dice with death in these taxis, and the music pumped so loudly it was giving Ntombi a headache even before she got to school. This one had gansta rap blasting out, an angry man’s voice shouting and swearing, with the boys at the back joining in the chorus.
As Ntombi stepped down from the taxi her school bag fell, and all the books were splayed out on the pavement for everyone to see. She nearly died of embarrassment. Everyone was stepping over and around her as they got off the taxi, in a hurry to get to assembly before the bell went. Everyone except for Mzi. Ntombi looked up. He was standing over her. For a moment she panicked. There was no one else around. The taxi driver had driven off. They were alone on the pavement. Who could she call? But then he squatted down next to her. “Let me help you,” he said in the sweetest, gentlest voice she had ever heard. A voice that could melt butter.
He started collecting her books and handing them to her. She put them back in her bag. As he passed her an English workbook his hand touched hers. She looked up, and for a second they stared into each other’s eyes. Then she quickly put the book away and stood up. “Thanks,” she said quickly.
“It’s a pleasure, helping someone as cute as you. You know, I’ve been watching you since the beginning of term.”
“Really?” said Ntombi, feeling a flutter in her stomach. What was she doing talking to one of the Mlongeni boys? And alone? Her father would chase her out of the house. But her father was who-knows-where? “I must run. I’m late,” she said.
“Meet me down at the sports shed at break time. I’d like to give you something,” he said and smiled that cute smile again. As she ran up the stairs into the school foyer she turned. He was still standing watching her. “Promise?” he called after her.
“Yes,” she called back, feeling that she was flying.

Book title: Broken promises
Chapter 2
Ntombi looked at the five rand coin in her hand. “What does she think I can buy with five rand?” she thought. One small bag of chips at the spaza, and a small packet of sweets, which she’d have to share with Zinzi. It wouldn’t buy her what she really needed – just ten minutes of time with her mother, when they could sit down and watch TV together, or talk, like they used to.
Just then Zinzi came in. She had been playing soccer in the street and her knee was grazed and bleeding. “Where’s Mama?” she asked Ntombi.
“Guess,” said Ntombi. “It’s not that hard.”
“Zakes?”
“Where else?”
“I thought you had singing practice this evening?’ said Zinzi as she slumped on the couch and dabbed at her cut with a tissue.
“Not any more. Mama said I’ve got to stay home and look after you.”
“I can look after myself.”
“You’re twelve,” said Ntombi, fetching the Dettol from the bathroom and dabbing it on Zinzi’s cut.
“Ouch!” Zinzi complained. “Stop it. You’re hurting me.”
“Don’t act like a baby. You don’t want it to get worse, do you? Do you want to go to hospital with an infected cut?”
“Why are you in such a bad mood?”
“Wouldn’t you be if you were missing a chance to go to the national finals of South Africa’s Teen Voice Competition?”
“I thought the judges were only coming next week?”
“They are. But every practice is really important. Mr Masondo says that we have to work hard and make Harmony High proud. Otherwise he won’t let us compete.”
Ntombi had been chosen, along with ten others at Harmony High, to perform for a panel of talent scouts that was travelling around the country auditioning high school students for the Teen Voice singing competition. If she was chosen out of the ten students from her school then she would go on to the national finals in Jozi. The prize was R10 000 and a recording contract. Ntombi had promised herself that she would work as hard as she could, attend every practice, and go to the nationals. Sometimes she even let herself dream of winning the competition. It would change her life – she would work really hard and produce an album. She’d buy a proper house for her family, and make sure her sister finished school. With the money she could go to university and study to become…
* * *
Just then there was the sound of girls laughing outside in the street.
“It’s the giraffes,” Zinzi said from the couch where she was watching Days on TV. She called Ntombi’s three girlfriends the giraffes because they were taller than other girls. In turn, they called Ntombi “shortie”, although she was average height. Ntombi opened the door and hugged her friends Busi, Asanda and Lettie. At least she could rely on them for support. Asanda and Lettie had also been chosen to compete in the singing competition and Ntombi could see that they were on their way to the practice. Busi was going along to watch in the hope of attracting the attention of Unathi, who was also competing. At the last practice she sat in the front row seats in the hall, blowing kisses to Unathi and holding up a big piece of paper with “I love Unathi” painted in lipstick. Unathi had just smiled and waved. Ntombi had told Busi that Unathi had a girlfriend back in Jozi, where he was from, but Busi wouldn’t listen. She didn’t want to hear.
“Come on, lazy girl,” Asanda laughed. “We’ll be late.” The practice was in the school hall, a taxi-ride away.
“I can’t go,” Ntombi told them.
“You must be joking!” Lettie said. “What’s wrong with you? I thought this was your dream?”
“Mama went out and I have to look after Zinzi.”
“You know what this means. Mr Masondo is not going to be pleased.”
“I know.” Ntombi was close to tears and her friends could see it. Mr Masondo was their singing coach and he was strict. Two missed rehearsals and you were out of the competition.
Asanda gave her a big hug. “Listen, we’ll bring you the lyrics back and help you practise. Cheer up. I’ll tell Mr Masondo that you got food poisoning.” Asanda was the queen of excuses, and with her charm the teachers always believed her.
“Thanks chommies. You’re the best.” Ntombi tried to smile bravely, but she felt terrible.
“By the way, there’s a party on Saturday at Thabiso’s Tavern. We’re going,” Busi said. “Why don’t you come? It should be fun. Unathi’s going to be there with his cousin from Jozi.”
“How many times do I have to tell you Unathi has a girlfriend?” Ntombi despaired of Busi. She really lost her head over boys and forgot who she was – the intelligent and charismatic girl who had a great future if she could just stay focused.
“He’s never mentioned her,” said Busi. “And anyway evidently his cousin is even better looking, and I’ve always wanted to go to Jozi. They say the men are hot up there.”
“You’re going to burn yourself one day,” joked Ntombi. “Just be careful.”
“Yes, Mama,” the girls laughed.
* * *
Ntombi watched as her friends ran down the road to catch the taxi. They were laughing and chatting. She went back inside and shut the door. The girls were right to call her ‘Mama’ – that’s what she was at the moment, and she was only fifteen. It was like her mother and her had swopped roles. The other girls used to complain about their strict mothers and tell Ntombi she was lucky. But Ntombi had noticed they didn’t say that anymore, not since Zakes had arrived on the scene. And Ntombi did not want to be a mother. Not for a long time. Not until she had finished studying and definitely not with someone she didn’t love and respect!
“I’m hungry,” complained Zinzi, who was watching The Bold and the Beautiful.
Ntombi wanted to just walk away from the house. But she knew she couldn’t.
She put the last bit of mielie meal into the pot. Sometimes she loved porridge for supper. But she was getting tired of it now. Before Zakes, her mother had always made sure that there was enough food in the house for them. It was a struggle on her salary, but she would always cook them a good meal in the evening and they would sit together and chat about the day. She had been sad a lot, but then they also had good times together. They went shopping in town on Saturday at the end of the month when her mother would give them each pocket money to spend. Now she didn’t have time for them any more. Ntombi had been telling her how the fridge needed to be fixed (it kept going on and off) and that the drain at the back of the house was blocked again. That’s when she really missed her dad. He would have fixed it by now. And where was Zakes when something went wrong in their house – out selling cars?
She served the pap onto plates. “Careful, it’s hot,” she warned.

“Not this again,” complained Zinzi.
“Don’t tell me, tell Mama,” said Ntombi.“If she’s ever here to tell.” As they ate, on Bold, a soapie star reclined on a lounging chair beside a pool somewhere in America – somewhere hot and lush with lots of money. A butler handed her an ice cold cocktail… she didn’t have a care in the world. Her nanny was looking after her kids, and Ntombi knew that her fridge would be brimming with food. Just then there was a sizzling sound and a bang from the back of the TV. The smell of burned plastic filled the room.
“No!” screamed Zinzi. “Not the TV! My life has ended.” And she buried her face under a cushion.
“Don’t be such a drama queen!” yelled Ntombi. She went into the bedroom to get away from her sister, before she exploded like the TV. She lay on the bed she shared with Zinzi and started paging through a magazine. But she wasn’t reading the words. She kept thinking of Asanda and Lettie standing on the stage of the school hall, learning the words of that new song, and them all laughing and having fun as they got one step closer to the finals, while she was stuck in this dump with a younger sister who was driving her crazy and not helping one bit around the house.
She looked down at the glamorous pop stars in the mag. Who did she think she was, trying to compete with girls like this? Maybe she was dreaming after all. Maybe Zakes was right. Maybe she didn’t have what it took to be a Teen Voice star. “Why bother entering the competition,” he had said. “These days you have to have the whole package: the looks, the s*x appeal and the voice. You’ll only be setting yourself up to be taken down.”
Her dad would never have said those hurtful words. He had told her that he was so proud of her when she had got into the choir at Harmony High. And when he had his employer’s car for a few days he had taken her to practices himself. Once when she wanted to go and get her ears pierced he had said, “Why spoil something so beautiful already?”
Now she didn’t even know where he was, or who he was with. Maybe he had a whole other family somewhere, another daughter, whom he loved now, more than her?
* * *
As she lay there she thought of the three promises she had made to herself on New Year’s eve three months ago. First: to enter the singing competition and go all the way to the final. Second: not to go out with a guy unless he was kind and respected her – not like the guy Busi had dated in the holiday, who had seemed the real deal – too good to be true – because he was too good to be true. He was good looking and clever, but he had left her with a broken heart and a broken arm after he had pushed her and she had tripped and fallen hard. If Ntombi and Asanda hadn’t run when they heard her cries from behind the sports shed at school, things might have been a lot worse. But when they appeared Ebenezer had left her and run – a coward at heart.
The third promise was to find her dad and bring him home. There was no way that she was going to let Zakes move in with them and pretend to be their father.

Book title: Broken Promises
Chapter 1
“Ntombi, I’m going out.”
“Mama, you can’t. It’s the third time this week and I’ve got …” But before Ntombi could finish her sentence her mother was already giving her a list of things to do while she was at Thabiso’s Tavern.
“There’s some money left for you and Zinzi. Make sure Zinzi does her homework – and don’t let her stay up too late! How do I look?” She did a twirl in the middle of the living room. Ntombi looked at the silver top and new jeans her mother was wearing and her heart sank. They were yet another gift from her mother’s new boyfriend, Zakes. Every time he went out with her mother he gave her something – but there was never enough money left over to buy something for her or her sister. He never had anything for them except for his unwanted ‘words of advice’. Words that made Ntombi want to throw something at him. Cruel, mean, words.
“You girls will never get boyfriends looking like that. Why don’t you do something to your hair? You look like village moegoes. No, what you need is to go to the hairdresser, get some braids.”
With what money? thought Ntombi, but she knew if she questioned him out loud, he would get angry and her mother would only take his side. She was forever saying, “Now don’t upset Zakes,” or “He’s only teasing; don’t be so sensitive,” or, even worse: “Maybe you should take his advice. You know he’s a very successful businessman.” And once when she was really mad, she shouted at Ntombi: “He is my boyfriend and you must respect him. His word is law!” Their mother had become a stranger. Ntombi wanted her old mother back.
Even when it was just the three of them it wasn’t the same. Zakes still messed things up between them. “What does he do?” Ntombi asked her mother on one of the few nights that her mother was home these days.
But her mother had looked unsure and started picking at her nail polish. “He’s in business…” she said uncertainly.
“What kind of business?” Ntombi wasn’t going to let her mother off the hook so easily.
“I don’t know. He’s a car dealer, a sales rep.” Her mother sat up on the bed, where they had been lying. “Anyway why all the questions? Are you the police?” Her mood had changed and she was glaring at Ntombi. “All I care about is that he treats me good, and that he’s got a good job. You’ve seen the way he dresses, and the car he drives.”
“Mama, you used to tell me those things didn’t matter. You used to tell me it was what was inside that mattered. You told me you married Dad for love…”
“And look where that got me!” her mother interrupted. “I don’t see him in this room. Do you?” That was the end of the conversation. Her mother had got up and gone through to watch a soapie on TV.
* * *
Ntombi didn’t trust Zakes one bit. He was a fake through and through. And what was worse, she didn’t like the way her mother acted when he was around. Like she was their older sister, competing over guys, rather than their mother who should be looking after them, giving them good advice, and protecting them from men like Zakes.
When her dad left a year ago, just after her fourteenth birthday, her mother was very sad, but at least they still felt like a family. They cuddled up on the couch together and watched Bold, and laughed and cried together. And then, one day, Mama came home from the rich private school where she worked cooking lunches, and told them she was going out that evening. The kitchen staff at the school had persuaded her to join them at Thabiso’s Tavern and she thought it might be good for her. Ntombi had helped her choose an outfit: a nice denim skirt, just below the knee, a tight black wraparound top with a white denim jacket. And to top it off, some gold earrings. Mama looked great. She had kissed her mother goodbye and wished her luck. Little did she guess that that night her mother would meet Zakes and their lives would be turned upside down again.
Ntombi knew the first time she saw Zakes, with his gold chains and flash smile that didn’t reach his eyes, that he would bring nothing but trouble. Even his car looked like a fake. It had been resprayed and that could mean one of two things: he had been in an accident, or the car was stolen. Things felt wrong when Zakes was in the house. He seemed too big for their small couch, sitting there with his beer, interrupting their conversations with his loud voice. He loved to say things like, “Girls, you are my daughters now. Go fetch another beer for your father.”
“Do as he says,” their mother would add if they hesitated, as she cuddled closer to her new boyfriend. There was no time for Ntombi or Zinzi when Zakes was around.
* * *
“Here.” Her mother handed Ntombi a five rand coin from her new gold bag. She smelled of some strong perfume Zakes had bought her. “Buy yourself some sweets at the shop,” she said as she rushed out, putting on lipstick as she went.
“Mama, I’m meant to be at singing practice. The competition is next week and…” But her mother was already out of the door and in the seat of Zakes’ resprayed BMW with its fluffy dice bouncing from the rearview mirror and couldn’t hear her. All she could do was watch as Zakes reversed with a squeal of tyres, and then they were gone.

When women hurts you and oppresses you there are several permissible ways where you can react to her. the relations of a women are not like toys made from glass. which can be broken and thrown out of the house, once you are done with it. You can go to God with your weakness and raise your hands to Him and make a supplication for rebuild your relationship. Men are supposed to be a bread winners and caretakers of their families. It's important for a man to understand the value of respect he received from his wife.

Sow flowers to make a garden bloom around you,
The thorns you sow will prick your own feet.
Arrows shot at others
Will return to hit you as they fall.
You yourself will come to teeter on the lip
Of a well dug to undermine another.
Though you look at others with contempt,
It's you whose body will be reduced to dust.
Humanity is all one body;
To torture another is simply to wound yourself.
Make your path straight now, by the bright light of day;
For pitch darkness will come without warning.

Lying to a Girl has become easy...

Girl: Baby can u speak Italian?
Because you like watching their
soccer
so attentively.
Boy: Yeah I understand
everything.
Girl: Mmmmm can you speak a
little of Italian so that I hear you?
Boy: Neymer Totti Messi Ancelotti
Piero Maldin Di Natale Konte.
Girl: Wow! What does that mean?
Boy: In all days as long as am
breathing you will remain in my
heart.
Girl: Thank you Jack I love you so
much my guardian Angel.
Boy: Balotelli
Girl:Hmmm and what does that
one mean?
Boy:I love you too.
Girl:awwwwwww!!!!☺☺☺☺

🙌🏾🙌🏾🙌🏾😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂