Bet On Yourself


The stakes are high and you are worth it. The truth is, you have always been worth it. Even at times when you doubted your worth, you didn’t lose it. Too often, we underestimate ourselves and overestimate our circumstances. I have done it, time and time again. I have seen how availability trumps ability and how it is not enough to be pregnant with potential. With a 3.2 GPA, I spent an extra year completing my Bachelors’s Degree while some students who had achieved a minimum of 2.0 gracefully walked across the stage at Graduation.

I do not say this to take credit from their well-deserved success but as a reminder that my ability was not enough. Our ability must be accompanied by our availability. My English Literature teacher in her usual firm tone once said, “Availability is better than ability”. I was smart and great at what I did. Of course, that was ability!. But really, I was only great at it because I did it, repeatedly- that was availability. Denise Austin tells us “Life is not a dress rehearsal. The curtain is up and you are on so go out and give it your best shot!”.

We must be able to show up for ourselves even when others cannot show up for us. We must be present and available. We must show up to do the work that is required and sometimes, that work is a lot. Especially when we are already overworked, overstressed and overestimating our circumstances. For us to receive cheers and applause is great but we must know our worth even in their absence. We must bet on ourselves even if we are the only ones placing our bet there. The stakes are high and you are worth it. Bet on yourself!

Learning. Being. Becoming.


The Disguise That Didn’t Work On Limpy

Lifestyle, Travel

If you live on the East Coast of Demerara, traverse frequently or commute using the route 44 minibuses then I am certain you know who Limpy is. You may have very well crossed paths with him as well because that’s just how Limpy is. Over time, I assumed his name came about from the limp in his walk. For a man of his small stature, Limpy is pompous and troublesome. He has also made me smile- almost laugh– on a few occasions so I will say he is funny, too. Limpy is a minibus conductor and that is how our paths crossed.

For all my five years attending President’s College at Golden Grove, Limpy has been overly friendly- to the point where it was annoying. He was one of those conductors who would lean over to you to ask for your number. My number. Okay. If Limpy ever saw me during weekends in the vicinity of the bus park, he was sure to call out, “Miss President’s College!”. My reaction was to always pretend I hadn’t the slightest clue he was referring to me and walk faster- a dash would make it too obvious- as if that ever stopped him, though.

Fast forward. It is now 2019. I completed Secondary School six years ago and Limpy is out of mind. In quiet moments, I do recall some of the minibus operators like Denzel, who gave me money once when I forgot my wallet at home. But Limpy is not one of those persons. He does not cross my mind and I do not recall our encounters- until now. Until now as he approaches me with a wide grin on his face calling out, “Miss President’s College!” with an umbrella in his hand. This is not a dream. This is real and Limpy has not changed one bit!

It is raining heavily and my umbrella is failing me. I am not soaked from head to toes but my shoes are wet and I briefly stop for shelter before boarding the minibus on my way to work.

Upon seeing Limpy, I quickly wear a mask of bewilderment which does no good in stopping Limpy from approaching me. When he is close enough, Limpy says, “Man, don’t do me that man. Don’t do that to me” – in a tone of disbelief at my facial expression – “You might able disguise on them with ya haircut but you can’t disguise pon me. I know you since you start going College. This face can’t hide man”.

Still, I continue to deny even attending President’s College and I maintain the facade. “You are confusing me with someone else”, I say (in my very Daniella voice) but Limpy does not buy it. He is as certain about knowing me as I pretend I am about not knowing him. As I sprint to the minibus, Limpy follows me with loud mocking laughter and tells me, “Don’t do me that friend. You might disguise pon them but you can’t disguise pon me. Me and you good right?”. He is still laughing. I can hear him and I want to laugh too because I feel silly. Finally, I give an assertive nod to his question. Limpy and I are good and I am reminded that sometimes people just show up for you, even when you don’t want them to.


Learning. Being. Becoming.


God Came Through Again!


I don’t know if you believe there is a God but I do. I have seen his works too many times to deny his existence. Only a few hours ago my friend & I were on the phone and as per normal, our conversation progressed from one story to another until we were both sharing our testimonies of how God came through again. Have you ever had one of those moments when you said, “God, I know that was you! You came through for me again!”?. Well, I’ve had many of those moments. More than I remember and all for which I’m grateful. Let me tell you about one of those moments.

I was attending Primary School and my grandmother gave me $15,000 to pay a bill (seemed like 15 million). The first afternoon, I forgot to pay the bill but it was the foundation for my lie in the days ahead. When the next day came and I was ready to pay the bill the money was no longer in my backpack. g-o-n-e-! Besides the immediate panic attack, two afternoons after I kept telling granny that the place was closed by the time I got there while praying she wouldn’t ask me for the money and it would miraculously reappear. The latter did not happen but let me tell you how God came through… again!

On the fourth day, we made our regular snack stop and the proprietor of the shop had a brilliant game idea. If any of us could snap the crisp thousand dollars bill he held using only our thumb and index finger, it was ours. I missed it on the first try but the desperation in me to recover the missing cash wouldn’t let me miss it again. Alas, the thousand was mine! It was only one less million- I mean thousand dollars– to replace but it eased my burden. That day, I determined I was not going home without that money. Oh la la, I cried to every adult that saw me. Yes, bitter crocodile tears.

Truthfully, I hoped they’d give me the money. All of them, particularly Mrs Burnette, told me I should go home and tell my Grand-mother the truth. Lady! Big Woman! The what?! Me?! Tell Granny I lost her money?! My Grandmother, Claudette Benn, would let me know that money did not grow on a tree along with a ‘good cut ass’. I tearfully told Mrs. Burnette right there and then, I was not going home without the money. Did she give me? Rolling my eyes Nope! Nevertheless, let me tell you how God came through…again!

One of my closest and the least suspecting friend told me she had the amount of money I needed and would give it to me. Ahhhh! Don’t let me talk about the speed arriving at her home to collect it. It was 180 mph on the straight and 170 mph on the turns with my motorcycle foot-a-cycle. When I got the money I knew I could go home and face my grandmother. Again, I told the same unbelieving lie to her. “The place was closed by the time I got there”. Don’t ask about her fury but bet and believe that the bill was paid- in full, the next day.

More than eleven years have passed since that bill was paid. Yet, every. single. time. every. single. day, God comes through! Many times, I doubted the positive outcomes of situations. I worried because I saw and understood things only as they were before me. Yet, despite all the circumstances God came through. The best part is that what God does for me isn’t any less or different than what he does for you. For all of us, bet and believe that God always comes through!

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. –Hebrews 11:1 King James Version (KJV)


Learning. Being. Becoming


Nothing Is Waiting For You


Today’s post is a light read like food for thought. Not a sermon according to my brother but about the way that nothing is waiting for us. We’re already in the final quarter of twenty nineteen. Some persons are asking, “When and how did this happen?”. For many good or bad reasons, others are happy this year is almost over. This is also the time when many persons exclaim, “This year has finished fast!” because nothing is waiting for us. Did every day not have twenty-four hours, every month unfold in the order we know it to be and having their usual number of days?

It did. 

As I write, quite a few deadlines of mine are quickly approaching. That doesn’t mean I’m going to discontinue binge-watching Queen of the South. In my defence, why didn’t someone put me onto it earlier? Still, those approaching deadlines will… well, approach. Then they will pass whether or not I do the work. The consequences make for another story but Queen of the South is really good. I’m going to be finished soon so I also need some recommendations. Again, nothing is waiting for us.

Time, as the adage tells us, waits on no one. Whether we show up and give our best or not. Whether we are participants or spectators in our lives. Time is fleeting. Unlike many of us who are waiting to do things when the ‘time is right’, time does her thing, regardless. Time never asks us if we are ready because that is our job; to be ready to seize opportunities when the time comes. The rest of this year will happen, whether we welcome it or not and so will the next year. However, what we do with the time we have is largely up to us. Nothing is waiting for you. So, what are you waiting for? 

Learning. Being. Becoming


Also, don’t forget to leave the info on the series I’d ask for. Thanks!


The Fortune Cookie


One evening, my friend and I were chit-chatting and catching up on our day. When we had done so, we agreed to retire to bed. Before we really did though, he asked; “Do you see the light in my eyes?”. Sleepily, I responded “Goodnight”. The next morning, his text was a photo of a fortune cookie message which read, “That special someone will see the light in your eyes”. I laughed at his text but I pondered about the fortune cookie and how it metaphorically reflected our lives. I thought about the power of each message in a fortune cookie. The way we don’t know what’s inside until we open it, right? Yet, there’s an inexplicable eagerness in most people to find out what’s the message inside their fortune cookie. For some of these persons, their lives are driven by the message of their fortune cookie. Of course, out of all the people on earth and all the fortune cookies made, that cookie with that message was intended for and received by you and there’s just no possibility that it’s untrue.

I’d like to think of us as fortune cookies and our purpose as the message inside. That we all would possess that inexplicable eagerness to discover our purpose and fulfil it. That in the way every fortune cookie is beautifully made, and of the nearly eight billion persons on Earth, each of us are created with a unique purpose that only we are capable of fulfilling; no one else, not a single person. The other thing that we have in common with the fortune cookie is the way in which only the baker knows the message inside until we open it. If the cookie were to become spoiled and discarded before it is opened, its message is never read by anyone. The same for each of us in discovering and fulfilling our purpose. It is simply not enough to acknowledge that we are fearfully and wonderfully made without knowing why. We must discover what our purpose is- why are we here? and when we do, we must fulfil it. Yes, out of all the people on earth and all the fortune cookies made, you have been created and intended for a unique purpose and there’s just no possibility that anyone can achieve it except you!

The world awaits the fulfilment of your purpose! 

Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus. Philippians 1:6 (NIV)

Learning. Being. Becoming.

Daniella- Enough


What My Sixteen Years Old Self Thought


At sixteen years old, my ideal age for being married was twenty-three. According to my calculations, by twenty-three I would have completed sufficient academic studies, secured a good job, my home, and found ‘the love of my life’. I vividly remember sitting in our classroom during the free periods and conversing intently with my colleagues; a group of five or so females, about all the things we would do when we finished high school. We talked about our desired success; career paths and financial wealth, our girls’ trips across the world, the qualities we wanted in a partner, the things we wanted for each other, what we imagined sex for the first time to be and when was the right time. We discussed how many children we wanted to have and how we would let our children have playdates together. For us, it was a very serious discussion and everyone was keen on listening and sharing their own aspirations. Reminiscing, I can only laugh heartily and wonder if my friends have the same memory.

I’m twenty-three years old now and oh boy, how life has unfolded. It has been a beautiful, continuous process of death and rebirth of ideas, beliefs, and attitudes. My calculations were very far-fetched; to say the least. Certainly, adulthood is a real thing. There’s a stark difference between that of my sixteen and twenty-three years old self. I recently saw Ms Annie, a staff of my high school, who curiously asked how I was doing. I used the opportunity to let her know that I wanted a full refund on the dreams they sold us about adulthood. We both laughed and she reminded me that we were all ‘too excited’ to grow. About some of those things; I have completed my Bachelor’s Degree, resigned from my very unfulfilling job, my own home- well, mi mama casa es mi casa and the love of my life turned out to be my own damn self. As for that chocolate Morris Chesnut-looking partner, I will probably have to dip him in the chocolate myself. Yet, none of these things qualified me for marriage; they never did! But you knew that, already. What, in the ‘and I oop!’, was my sixteen years old self, thinking?!

I’m not saying this cannot be the fate of another young dreamer, it just wasn’t mine. My desire isn’t any more to be married by a specific time as much as it is to marry the right person. My academic accomplishments- achieved and desired, a good job-which is very relative, my home-the one with the pool on the roof, the girls’ trip (we’ve have managed one so far) and all the others things we discussed have been placed into different perspectives and order of priority with time; as with everything else. My new goals include discovering who I am and what my purpose is so that I can fulfil it, accepting and loving myself unconditionally so that I can also accept and love others the same and certainly becoming the best version of myself, always. No timelines. Listen,  I just want to go back and tell my sixteen years old self to stop embarrassing twenty-three years old me with those things she told her colleagues during those conversations. I would definitely tell her, “Girl, be quiet! It’s real in these streets!” Now, I wonder what my thirty-five years old self will think of twenty-three years old me.

Learning. Being. Becoming


What are some things your sixteen years old self thought?