Words of Encouragement

Challenges and difficulties are a part of life and words of encouragement can often help you get out of your rut. It’s easy to tell someone to hang in there and to keep a positive outlook when they are going through tough times but when it happens to you, keeping your chin up isn’t always the easiest thing to do. Even so, it’s not impossible. There are a lot of things you can do to help you stand back up and move forward. Whether you’ve been dealt with a setback while working towards your goal, lost a loved one, or just feel down, inspirational words of encouragement can help.
Words can have a powerful impact on your mindset. Although we’ve all heard the saying, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words can never hurt me”, the fact is that words really do have an impact on how we feel. Often times, when things seem pointless, when you’ve just come face to face with yet another failure, it can seem as though it’s the end. It can seem as though no matter how hard you try, the life that you want will always be just out of reach.
During these times, some positive words of encouragement can help you shift your focus. When it comes down to it, how you feel is really just about what you focus on. What words of inspiration and encouragement will do for you is help you put things into perspective.
Who doesn’t go through failures, setbacks, and challenges? We all do. In fact, after you get through this challenging time, you will have more to come in the future. Although that sounds pessimistic, it’s also reality. Those who succeed in life and get what they want as well as those who are the most happiest aren’t people who never face difficulties. If anything, they probably deal with more challenges than most people. The thing that makes them different is how they respond and react to those obstacles.

Yours Faithfully

Yours Faithfully – a funny story with a retold joke about a miser who wanted his wealth buried with him.

His faithful wife kept her promise, but ...

"He, he, he he," giggled Joy, poring into John's work laptop.
"Will you let me focus?" John grumbled. He had been trying to complete his project report.
"This joke is quite hilarious," she replied. "A miser gets outsmarted by his woman. Wanna know how?"
"Hmm
..." he stopped work, knowing he wouldn't be allowed to concentrate now anyway, until she had finished.
With a barely suppressed smile playing on her lips, she told him of this miser who dearly loved his money. He had worked all his life and saved all his money.
Just before he died, he had said to his wife, "Promise me love, that when I die, you will put away all my money into my casket with me. I won't have peace in the afterlife without it."
The loving wife had solemnly promised.
All things eventually reach their expiry date. When he had reached his, he too had expired.
So, he was laid out in his coffin. His wife sat there in the black, with her best friend beside her. When the ceremony finished and the undertakers were ready to close the casket, his wife walked over to the casket and placed a box inside it.
The undertakers locked the casket down and rolled it away.
When she returned to join the other mourners, her best friend whispered, "You are not foolishly sending him off with all his money now, I hope."
"My word is my bond," the faithful wife replied. "I promised him that I'll see him off with all his money with him, in his coffin. I keep my promises."
"You mean, you really did put all his money into the casket with him?" asked her shocked friend.
"I sure did," answered the wife. "I wrote him a check. If he can cash it, then he can spend it!"

Assassin

“Pa,” said Hosh, “I’m submitting a story called 'Assassin', for my College magazine again this year."
"Can you read and check it please, before you go to Office?”
“Sure,” said Rosh, as he walked down the steps and took the printed sheet.
Hosh hugged him and together they sat down on the sofa and read…
Not a sound was heard as she crept up the steps to the tenth floor of the dilapidated building. The sky was clear, but the sun was dying.
She set up her telescopic rifle on the sturdy tripod in the bare room by the broken window.
Her casual attire hugged her smooth and elegant body as she peered through the cross hairs and concentrated. She attached the silencer and adjusted the aim to account for the divergence caused by the silencer.
She clipped the transmitter to the mechanical hand that would press the trigger and control the rifle’s zoom and lateral movements. She tested it again. Satisfied, she descended the steps, and stepped into the deserted street.
Keeping her head low, and never looking up, she walked the two blocks to the Theatre basement garage where her car was parked. She got in, peeled off her face mask and disguise, and put it in the acid canister that sat below the passenger seat in her car.
Changing quickly into a dark business suit, she shredded off her casuals into pieces before feeding them also to the voracious canister. Out of the car in less than two minutes after having climbed in, she drained the acid in the storm water drain and disposed of the canister in the basement junkyard.
Then she climbed back in her car, signed into her iPad and ran her garage script one final time. It instantaneously hacked into the garage CCTV server, paused its unmanned recording, deleted the last three minutes of footage and created an i-movie by repeating the screenshot before the edit-out.
It then restarted the recordings, logged out and deleted its footprint from the registry of the CCTV server and her own iPad. She deleted the script from her iPad and drove out to the Xucorp Complex.
The meeting would be starting in one hour. As she rode the elevator alone in the gleaming Xucorp Main building, she checked her facial expressions in the little vanity mirror she always carried in her purse.
'Everything on schedule?' she spoke to herself in the mirror. She sounded her usual confident self.
Committed now, she waited for the elevator to come to a stop on the tenth floor.
“Everything on schedule?” she asked smilingly, as she walked past her secretary towards the Boardroom.
“Yes ma’am,” her secretary replied.
She nodded pleasantly at Mark, the C.E.O, as she took her seat on his left. She opened her laptop and typed in her Deputy C.E.O. authorization codes. Information about the billion-dollar project began dancing on her screen.
She opened another program on her screen and watched with satisfaction as Mark’s head filled up the little window. It would be perfect. Technology would ensure that, despite the distance and other difficulties. One shot. Clean kill.
They were soon joined by the rest of the project team and the client. It was time. Everyone exchanged greetings and took their seats around the conference table. Lights were turned down. Her presentation began.
Her laptop projected charts and pictures on to the projector screen as she spoke. She cascaded the project window on her screen and activated the little window. No adjustment was needed. She pressed Enter.
A bullet journeyed to its destination. There was no sound, but blood appeared in the little window. She pressed Delete. The window closed instantly and the program self-destructed.
Far away in the dilapidated room, acid exploded from the tripod base, damaging everything along with the rifle. In the Boardroom where she sat, Mark’s lifeless head hit the table with a dull thud. Then, there was chaos.
On cue, she shuddered for the benefit of Boardroom CCTV cameras, looking as shocked at the sight of actual blood, as the others. She knew the camera footage would be viewed and analyzed thousands of times in NYPD and Interpol offices across multiple countries.
Forensic programs, trained animals and specialized detectives would be intensively scanning and extensively sniffing from Earth and Sky over the next month. Mark's exit would stir up the hornet's nest, as the company stock plunged and the greatest manhunt in the history of New York began.
Detectives arrived soon and the investigations began. She sagged, knowing it was going to be a long night.
“A bloody mess!” muttered the chairman as he was leaving.
He looked at her and asked, “Have we lost the project now?”
“Not as long as I live,” she replied tiredly.
“The Board will confirm you as C.E.O. tomorrow. Call the Press Conference before New York Stock Exchange opens. I've got Legal working on Media Releases already."
He walked out to go home and get a couple of hours of shut-eye. A new day had begun.

Knowing Where To Tap

“What do you want to be in life?” asked Mack, as he walked with his son on their daily walk the next day.
“Rich!” replied Mack somberly.
Despite Mack’s grave demeanor and the events of yesterday, Mack laughed at his answer.
“That was not what I asked,” he said, “but that is a good goal. How will you get there?”
“By working hard, getting good Mack's and a bit of luck,” responded Mack.
“Hard work? Good marks?” Mack was beside himself with mirth. “They are a good start, but no, they won’t make you rich. And what is Luck?"
"Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity, Lucius
Annaeus Seneca had said."
"Opportunity is always there. Even if it weren’t there, you can create it. So, opportunity is not the issue. The real question is, how prepared are you? Are you ready to get lucky?”
When Mack didn’t answer for a long time, Mack softened and said, “Effort is important son, but it bears lean fruit."
"For richer pickings, you need vision, passion and reason to direct your efforts. Directed effort is what makes men rich. Knowing where to make the effort makes all the difference!”
“Tools don’t make the expert, knowledge does. You can name your price if you know your stuff. I read a story once, about a steamship boiler failing."
"The owner tried one expert after another, but none could figure out how to fix it. Then, they called an old local mechanic who had been fixing boilers since he was young.”
“The frail old man came, carrying with him just a small bag of tools. He listened to the distraught engineer, asked a few questions, then went into the boiler room. They followed him in.”
“He looked at the maze of twisting pipes, and felt them with his hands. He listened to their heartbeat and heard what they had to say."
"Then humming softly to himself, he reached inside his bag and pulled out a small hammer. He gently tapped something. Instantly, the boiler awoke from slumber.”
“As it hissed and roared, the old mechanic put away his tool and left. There was much jubilation on the steamship. Later, the owner received a bill for ten thousand dollars."
"What?" he exclaimed when he saw the invoice, "$10,000 for a puny tap. He hardly did anything. I was prepared to pay him well, but this is outrageous!"
"So he had his solicitor write to the old mechanic, requiring an itemized bill. He got back a bill which read:
  • Tapping with the hammer.........$10
  • Knowing where to tap ........$9,990”
“Pa, people can’t do that kind of thing in real life,” Mack objected.
“Can't they?" asked Mack, "In 1984, a similar incident is said to have happened at General Electric, Schenectady, New York, with an old-timer named John Steinmetz."
"His consulting charge was $100, and in Steinmetz' day, that was a King’s ransom. Accounting demanded an itemized bill, and he responded with, '$1/tap + $99/knowing where to tap'."
“He wouldn’t get paid today!” persisted Mack. “He’d have to fight for it in court. And be lucky to win!”
“There’s luck again,” answered Mack. “Howard Schultz said that Luck was seizing the day and accepting responsibility for your future. It was seeing what other people don't see and pursuing that vision."
"Today is no different. Don’t multinationals pay millions in salaries to some, when others barely earn pennies. They are not being paid just for their hours. They are being paid for their skills, for their knowledge, for their experience.”
“The mechanic did what no one else could do despite their best efforts. How much was restarting the boiler worth to the steam-ship owner? How much was the time lost unproductively in waiting, worth?"
"How much was he paying in wages while all his crew sat twiddling their thumbs? What was the replacement cost of the boiler? Value, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.”
“But that’s still blackmail,” countered Mack. “Isn’t it?”
“No, son,” Mack said. “If you overvalue your work, the world will likely step in to knock down your price. But if you undercharge yourself, it's unlikely that the world will step in to compensate you appropriately."
"You can’t rely on others to value you correctly. It is not in their best interests to do so.”
“The mechanic knew where to tap. It only took him a moment to fix the problem, but it took him a lifetime to learn how to recognize it in the first place. And to learn how to fix it. Why do you value knowledge so cheaply?"
"His job seems easy to you because he made it look so easy, because of his intricate knowledge, which took him a lifetime to acquire.”
“To others, it still remained undo-able. Just because something is easy for someone, doesn’t mean that it’s easy for everyone else."
"Become a hammer tapper, always learning new stuff, new tools and techniques, new ways of doing things. Creating a niche is the road that leads to riches.”
“Knowing where to tap the hammer is what will set you apart from the rest. Set you apart from the blind - who will try the same things over and over until they fail so many times, that they declare it impossible."
"For hammer tappers, impossible is just an opinion. To them, impossible reads I M Possible.”

Tortoise Beats The Hare

Tony felt miserable and a little anxious and afraid. His name had not been announced in the top three students of his class at the annual School Prize-Giving night this year.
He had seen Tony’s shock and incredulity at the announcements turn into anger. His father had been silently seething as they drove back home.
“What happened?” was all he had asked Tony on the way.
“I don’t know”, was all Tony had been able to reply.
Tony fought internally to control his temper as the family gathered around at the dinner table. His knew Josh was intelligent.
But it was clear that he hadn’t worked hard, letting supposedly lesser talented kids in his class overtake him. “They aren’t in my league,” he had said at the beginning of the school year.
Dinner was eaten in silence. As the empty dishes were being removed from the dinner table, Tony began to speak, “Whether we like it or not, our education system has become a race."
"A race among all sorts of participants. Fast and slow, bright and dumb. And it’s not always the fast or bright who get to win this race. Like in the old Aesopian fable about a race between a hare and a tortoise.”
“You know that hares are among the fastest sprinters in the animal kingdom, while tortoises can only move slowly due to their genetic design. In this fable, Aesop tells of a hare who ridicules the slow-moving tortoise and gets challenged by the tortoise to a race.”
“Running circles around the tortoise, the hare soon leaves him far behind. Then confident of his certain win, he decides to take a nap midway through the course. Unfortunately for him though, he awakens too late – only to find that his competitor, crawling slowly but steadily, has finished the race before him.”
“Sometimes it's just luck Tony,” interjected Isha, sensing his anger.
“Yeah. A Biblical verse in Ecclesiastes 9.11 does say, ‘The race is not to the swift or the battle to the strong, nor does food come to the wise or wealth to the brilliant or favor to the learned; but time and chance happen to them all.' Do you also believe that you lost by chance Josh?”

“I think I got over-confident Pa,” said Josh, slowly getting up from the dining table to walk away. Sam got up with him. As they walked out towards the garden together, he put his arm around him. The brothers were quiet for a long time, sitting very still on the step leading into the dark garden.
“But it will not always be so,” Josh continued suddenly, promising his brother, “We will have another race next year and I won’t be caught sleeping on that one. I am a hare after all and can’t be beaten by tortoises.”
“You didn’t study in the holidays Josh, and you didn’t focus during the year. Things were too easy for you, so you digressed. You had to keep up your momentum, but you didn't."
"There is a funny paradox about motion, Josh. The Greek philosopher Zeno of Elea tells of a race between Achilles and a tortoise, in which the hero – confident of his own ability - gives the tortoise a head start in a race.”
“If you give someone a head start, Zeno argues that technically you can never catch up to them, no matter how fast you run. This is because by the time Achilles reaches the point at which the Tortoise started, the Tortoise has already advanced ahead of that point."
"When Achilles will arrive at the point where the tortoise is now, the tortoise will also always have inched away, even if ever so slightly. Since Achilles will technically arrive at any point later than the tortoise, he will never be able to overtake the tortoise.”
“You might laugh away the conundrum, but leaders in a any race do have a psychological advantage that becomes quite hard for followers to overcome in most cases. That is why stories are made and told where they do overcome these odds."
"The trick is for leaders to keep their edge and not waste momentum by constantly looking back over their shoulder. Do the best you can, and that would be enough. But doing is important, for without doing, the best laid plans come to naught and talent withers away unused.”
Tony stayed at the dining table thinking, long after the boys had retired to bed. Isha pleaded with him for Josh. “He is too sensitive. If you push him too hard and he still can’t beat them after you keep reinforcing that he is a hare among tortoises, he might give up trying completely. The tortoises will win definitely if he doesn't run at all, isn’t it? They are not going to stop the race for drop outs.”
“Yeah, that they won’t," answered Tony, "Did you know a version of this fable was written about a hundred years ago by Lord Dunsany in his book called "The True History of the Tortoise and the Hare". What you fear is what happens in that version. The hare realizes the stupidity of this challenge and refuses to run."
"But the show must go on, so the tortoise starts alone and finishes his race eventually. He is crowned the victor. But things fall apart when animals decide to dispatch their fastest on a critical mission. They send the Tortoise, and their world is annihilated."
"You can't create speed where no potential exists. But the society wants its competitions. It must create winners and losers. And then it opens doors for winners and closes them for losers."
"You can create doctors by reserving seats for the children from historically oppressed sub-classes within society or by giving the non-meritorious Medical College admissions if they pay appropriate donations, but will you go to such doctors for treatment when you need care yourself?", Tony fumed.
"That's an issue for another day, my love” Isha sighed, "Isn't it possible that we could have over estimated our child's potential? We are definitely unaware of the potential in others."
"He may not be a hare after all. That will not make him less of a man, nor make you love him less. But if he is a hare as you foresee, we need to focus on ensuring he doesn't go to sleep again. Now come, let's sleep on it."
She took him by the hand and tucked him in his bed for the night.

Unwelcome Guests

Unwelcome guests can become useful citizens, given the chance.
Yet, International Governments desire normal migrants & detest illegal refugees.
Story on the refugee debate.

A heated debate was raging at the dinner table.
“Who in their right mind,” Josh was saying, “wants to leave a good, established, prosperous life, and go live in an unknown country, amongst unknown people, forever?”
“Who wants to re-start their life from scratch? With no money and no relationships. And rebuild it amongst strangers in a completely different land, with a completely different language and culture.”
“No one wants to do this. But refugees have to do all of this. They don’t go knocking on someone else’s door because they want to. They go because their circumstances forced them to.”
“No one wants to be refugee. But then, no one wants to feel unsafe and unhappy either. Refugees are people fleeing war or persecution.”
"They are people who are worried about the safety of their lives in their own country, and can no longer continue to live there safely.”
“But when these people flee to other countries in large numbers,” Isha retorted, “as can be during wars or civil unrests, host countries feel a drain on their economic resources.”
“How would you feel, when you are already struggling to make ends meet, and uninvited guests come in to live with you?”
“Pa told me a story once,” Josh argued passionately, “about a Sufi fakir who lived in a small one-room hut in the wilderness.”
“It was raining heavily one night, and many visitors came calling at his door, seeking shelter. They got shelter, but it was interesting to see how they behaved, when more refugees kept coming.”
“Be practical!” Isha cut him off. “International Governments are hardly likely to think like Sufi fakirs, let alone act as one.”
Rosh smiled at her comment, but let it pass. He felt strangely elated that his son had remembered one of his stories. He remembered that story well.
To be invoking it today, Josh would have needed not only to have listened to it carefully, but to have understood it. He felt like he had just been awarded a PhD by The School Of Life.
'Those early years with Josh had seemed such hard work,' he thought quietly. 'He had planted his seeds. But it seemed like they had all fallen on barren soil. Bearing no fruit. Producing no desired results.'
'The more he had tried to guide him, the more distant his son had become.' He looked at his son speaking now, and tuned in to their conversation again.
“I read a novel recently,” Josh was saying, “called The Rugmaker of Mazar-E-Sharif. It is based on a true story that begins in war-torn Afghanistan of the 1980s, and continues during the mayhem that followed when Taliban later tightened their grip on the country.”
“Watch Charlie Wilson’s War,” said Rosh, “the Tom Hanks movie. It is also based on a true story about that war. Millions of Afghan refugees fled into Pakistan during the 80s and 1990s. Although 4 million of these have gone back to Afghanistan since 2002, Pakistan still has over a million registered Afghan refugees - still the largest protracted refugee population globally.”
Josh nodded at his father and continued, “The book traces Najaf’s, the Afghani rugmaker-turned refugee's, extraordinary journey from his early life as a shepherd boy in the mountains of Northern Afghanistan, to his forced exile after being captured and tortured by the Taliban.”
“Like any other refugee, he has to leave behind his life and loved ones, and everything he had established through his hard work in life. He and his family pool their savings and take on debt, in the hope of giving him a chance to undertake a journey into the unknown. To Australia - a land he has never been to before. And where he knows not a single soul.”
“Kind of like us coming to New Zealand,” said Isha, “with neither friends, nor family here. Not knowing anyone. Having no job offers.”
“You didn’t come here as refugees,” said Josh, “but as normal migrants, on your merit. You weren’t fleeing your homeland because Taliban were trying to kill you, or bombs were dropping on your family home, killing your relatives. You didn’t end up incarcerated in a detention centre.”
“Unlike you, Najaf was an unwelcome guest, an illegal. For him, there were no guarantees. Only hope. Hope that he will be allowed to remain here. That he will survive, and be able to live in this foreign country, safe from the danger and death that hounded him at home.”
“So yeah, refugees have nothing. They can be hard work. They bring nothing. No money. No certificates. Have language barriers and sometimes they aren’t even healthy when they arrive.”
“They are dependent and desperate. To secure immigration and to survive, they can tell lies. But isn’t that what any desperate human being would normally do? Lying doesn’t make men evil or terrorists.”
“They must be housed,” Isha objected, “fed, treated, rehabilitated. Given lots of moral and financial support. Sometimes even educated and trained, before they can become useful citizens. After all this, sometimes they don’t even stay long enough to contribute back to the economy that sheltered them. They move on to greener pastures.”
“So do normal migrants,” replied Josh. “In allowing normal migration, a host country exercises its right to choose who and how many. Similarly, a normal immigrant is free to emigrate when they need to, or when they see better opportunities to prosper elsewhere?”
“Instead of putting roadblocks, wouldn't it be better if we concentrated on making our nation more desirable as a place to live and prosper?"
"Moving out is not made an issue even when normal citizens of a country move. The country has invested in them too. Why should moving to make their life better elsewhere, be an issue with refugees only? Have they become our bonded slaves just because we chose to help them when they needed our help.”
“A refugee is not, even remotely, as settled as a citizen or as a normal immigrant. Immigrants apply to migrate, refugees are forced to. Immigrants arrive due to symbiosis, refugees due to duress. International Governments desire normal migrants, they detest illegal refugees. Why?"
"Immigrants are accepted happily by host countries because they see in them, a mutually beneficial relationship. Their relationship with refugees is an unwanted one, forced upon both parties by circumstance. An unhappy start for both sides. Refugees didn’t want to come here by choice. Their unwilling hosts didn’t want them to come here either.”

How to Prepare Yam Sauce (Tomatoes)

About Nigeria yam sauce. There are different kinds of tomatoes sauce made in Nigeria,
we make sauce for yam, vegetable sauce for rice, and even fried yam/plantain sauce. Basically all tomato sauce follow the same preparation procedure, sometimes I decide to add vegetables.
The images below are different tomato sauce made in the "Nigeria Kitchen", In case you haven't learned about project 'Nigeria Kitchen';
well, it's my own kitchen where most of the images you see here are made
At the bottom of this page you get a form that allows you to subscribe to the 'Nigeria kitchen' members, i reserve the best for only members.

Here is a detailed guide on making yam sauce in Nigeria, yam sauce is a simple stew made for eating yam. It is very simple to make.

Ingredients includes


  • tomatoes (chopped)
  • crayfish (optional)
  • maggi(seasoning) (1 cube)
  • pepper
  • salt to taste
  • groundnut oil. (10cl)

Sometimes I chose to spice up with 1 or two eggs
Here is how to make yam (tomato) sauce in Nigeria; you can either blend or chop the tomatoes/fresh pepper and onions to bits, this will affect the appearance of the sauce at the end of the day.
Heat your frying pan and add about 10cl of groundnut oil heat for about two minutes then add sliced onions fry and stir for a minute then add the ground tomatoes and pepper.
Cook and stir till the tomato is boiling with oil without traces of water(about 15 minutes) you need to stir occasionally to avoid burning
Add other ingredients - maggi(seasoning) ground crayfish, salt, cook for 5 to 10 minutes and add vegetable(optional) Now that is how to cook Nigerian stew for yam or some people just call it yam sauce
Serve with cooked white yam and maybe a bottle of your favorite soft drink, I prefer "CHI" products

The Problem is Not the Problem

"The problem is not the problem; the problem is your attitude about the problem,” so declared Captain Jack Sparrow. To Robert Schuller,...