What would you do if you had a near-death experience? Or if you have had more than one? Would you look at life differently? Would you think about what you've done in your life? Would wonder what would have happened if you had died? Would you ask your self why? Why did God decide it was not your time to go? Why he gave you more time? Or would you simply keep going with your life? Would you ignore what happened and keep walking? Many people think about what will happen after they died. Whether people will miss them. They wonder what would happen with all their things or would all their work in life been worth it. But also many people don't really think about it. They just do their life without worrying. Others think was I kept alive for a reason? What am I meant to do? I was born with a chronic kidney disease called Alport Syndrome. It affects my kidneys, vision, and hearing among other things. I get sick really easily. When I do get sick I can be fine in the morning and be in the hospital by the evening. Getting sick for me is bad news my I get dehydrated really easily and when my fever spikes it's not so easy to get it down. There have been times in which I get extremely sick and then the next morning I'm fine. Most of these times have been because there have been three different churches praying for me. But I don't really ever realize how sick I was until my mom tells me that my blood pressure was so low or high that I could have died. That's when I start to wonder most of the questions in the paragraph above. Before I continue I'll give you some backstory. Ever since a child, I have loved reading and getting into hundred of worlds apart from my own. I would imagen myself in those stories and how I would act. Then I started to see movies coming out based on my favorite stories and there were actors that would actually be put into the worlds created by the books. Not only that, then I started seeing actors getting famous enough to start helping the world and raising money for charities. That's when I started thinking, I have been in a near-death experience so many times, that there must be a reason God has been keeping me alive. I have always been very compassionate, I want to help everyone that needs help. What if maybe, just maybe, the reason I'm still alive is to make a difference. So one day after a lot of thinking I made up my mind, I would do everything in my power to be an actor. That way I can do both things I have always dreamed of, making a huge difference for the better in the world and being an actor. God has a reason for everyone alive, there is always something you can do to help people. I still don't know his reason for sure, but I know there is one. In the meantime, I dream big. I give out bags of food to the homeless and just thinking that maybe that food gave them hope, makes it worth it. When people tell you little things matter they weren't bluffing. Don't let a near-death experience be what tells you what you do matters.

I opened the email and scanned it anxiously, confirming my worst fears. My place of work was closing “indefinitely”, as so many were, due to Covid 19 concerns. My thoughts about the quarantine in that moment: "It couldn't have come at a worse time." We'd been together a few years and had decided just eight months ago to sell our collective houses and buy a new home together, away from the city. A fresh start, out in the country, we thought. It sounded lovey. Months later, we found it. A 125 year old farmhouse, recently renovated, on 3 acres of land. Set at the end of a dead-end road, it was surrounded by farms and far from the city. I would have to commute about an hour, but it seemed worth it. We arranged to see it and fell in love with it the moment we stepped from the car. We bid on it, and in a whirlwind of inspections and appointments, scarcely three weeks later it was ours. Over the next six months I became increasingly disenchanted with my commute. The major highways leading to my job in the city began construction, increasing my commute to an hour and a half each way. The stressful drive began to take it's toll on me. The house itself was lovely, I thought, from the limited time I managed to spend in it. It seemed I was never at home anymore. My cat became withdrawn, intimidated by the new surroundings, new person, and the fact that I was suddenly gone for most of the daylight hours. My round trip commute occasionally exceeded 3 hours. We would rise before the sun and sit on one of our three porches with coffee as daylight broke over the meadow, trying to spend some quality time together. I would sometimes get a glimpse of a deer or rabbits, but then it was time to get ready for work. Evenings I would be stressed from the city traffic, and too exhausted to appreciate our tranquil surroundings. I needed a vacation, but my job at the restaurant was in full swing, and I couldn't take any time off. Suddenly, my assistant quit. My job started calling me on my precious days off, asking me to come in and texting me multiple times a day. It seemed I couldn't escape from work. With my lay-off, things changed. At first I was anxious, but some long talks with my partner, coupled with meditative walks, soothed my nerves. Unemployment came through, after only a few weeks. We were going to be OK. We spent our mornings together, drinking coffee on the porch, watching the wildlife wander through the meadow. I was able to relax more than I had in over a year. I planted a huge vegetable garden to help defray our food cost - we are both vegetarians. I built a fence around it to keep out the deer, and the physical activity combined with a sense of accomplishment bolstered my self-esteem. We landscaped our new property together, planting trees and hedges, and marveled at the spring flowers popping out all over. We had no idea of the beauty spring would bring to our new home. It was breathtaking! In April everything was covered in shades of purple...wisteria draped all over our trees at the edge of the woods, and wild violets ran amok. Daffodils and irises from years gone by sprang up everywhere, waking from their winter slumber, cheerfully greeting the sun. The bees buzzed happily in the clover. Nature was unconcerned with the pandemic. The more time I spent outside, the less anxious I became. The fruit trees planted long ago started blooming. It was amazingly beautiful! Crab apples and peach trees blossomed everywhere, a riot of pink and white flowers everywhere you looked. My partner sat on a bench under the blooms and played his guitar and sang to me. It is a memory I will treasure forever. Every day while roaming our new property, we made new discoveries, as spring unearthed the secrets of our land. We have fig trees, apples, peaches, walnuts, pecans, and wild blackberries. We take long walks every night, down our quiet country road. I started writing a novel, set up outside on my favorite porch. I've spent the last month writing and dreaming, gazing across the meadow. I can hear strains of music coming from the upstairs window of my partner's studio as he practices. It's lovely. I feel blessed. We're visited daily by a family of deer, come to eat the fallen crab apples. Rabbits are everywhere, big and small, chasing each other in the yard. Occasionally, as I sit and write, I'll spot wild turkey, skunk, groundhogs, possums... once, even a coyote. I take pictures when I can. Mostly, I revel in the nature all around me. I reflect on the gift that's been granted to me... to spend time with my partner and appreciate this amazing place. I think about the timing; the pandemic and lock down, occurring in our first spring at our new house. My thoughts about the quarantine at this moment: "It couldn't have come at a better time."

LION OF THE PEN When it rains, it pours!! These last few days epitomized this, with no less than four family members being rushed to hospital, two requiring urgent operations! The usually effervescent energy of the family chat group quickly shifted to a somberness that weighed heavily on the chest, often causing laboured breathing! The lighthearted posts were replaced with constant updates from the hospitals, messages of mutual support, and prayers ... lots of prayers... Then.. this afternoon, the dreaded news... I remembered that Saturday morning when he had called, requesting that I attend the Maritzburg unveiling of his book, "Mandela In Focus" at the Nizamia Hall. I remembered being in awe as he addressed the audience. I had attended primary school at Nizamia, as did my parents, uncles, aunts and many cousins. And so did he, as I surprisingly learnt from his speech! But never before had I encountered the history of the school as he told it! Even the school governing body later commented on the need to document it! After his speech, he made a bee line towards me, with the visible joy of one reconnecting with a long lost relative. He even stated that he now "recognized the family forehead"! He then quickly rearranged the row of chairs where we sat, into a circle and promptly summoned and introduced me to two other relatives, who had accompanied him to the unveiling. The last we had met was when I was a little girl, on holiday, at my uncle and aunt's home in Durban, where he was a frequent guest, up until my uncle's passing. Our paths never crossed again until January this year, when he had approached me with an invite, to be a guest on his talk show. It was only after providing a short bio for the show, did he make the connection and delightedly stated, "We're family!" Even after the unveiling event, the handful of us stood out on the school grounds as he continued exuberantly chatting, clearly explaining exactly how my grandfather was his uncle, and my mother his cousin. He pointed across the field to the house in which my grandfather once lived, next to the mosque. He said he had spent a lot of time there and could still clearly remember every detail of that house... every fruit tree in the garden... everyone who lived there... and everyone who visited... He spoke of how my grandfather "presided over the community" and how we needed to co-author a book about his life. His love for my late grandfather was visibly evident. By this time, Kevin Joseph, the photographer of "Mandela in Focus", and the school principal had joined in the conversation. He introduced me as his niece, to which Kevin quickly inquired: "Another one?" "No! This one REALLY IS my niece!" he emphatically proclaimed. I later discovered that he habitually adopted people as family. All the cars in the parking lot had by now long dispersed, except for ours... Over the coming months, I received regular phone calls... a caring uncle watching over me... a seasoned mentor... I thoroughly enjoyed listening to tales about his friendship with Muhammad Ali and Barbra Streisand, the lavish dinners, the times when her home was filled with people, at the height of fame... and other things... He always ended his calls with a bit of parting wisdom... He also spoke about the book he was writing, documenting his experiences as a journalist and activist. He mentioned the title he was considering ... "The Man They Couldn't Gag" ... and asked me to write a short poem for the foreward. I obliged with "Lion of the Pen" Lion of the Pen He feared not the hunter's bullets in his quest to be heard And a deafening ROAR it was From his written word AdielaAkoo At the time of writing this poem, I never once thought that barely six months later, I would be writing this piece! It's only been a few hours since that dreaded news, and it still feels so surreal. The reality of lifelessness in one normally so full of life, is quite jarring! From the influx of messages being posted on social media, the positive impact that uncle Farook had on the lives of so many people, is clearly apparent. Combined with this, was his wonderful talent of making each person feel uniquely special! He will, undoubtedly, be sorely missed... Part of my own treasure trove of memories is this autographed copy of his book, "The Goodwill Lounge", in which he wrote this message in bold letters: "TO ADIELA, WHO OWNS THE SKY" And that is exactly how he made you feel! Like nothing was impossible! You could take on the world, like he did! They say that when an elder dies, a library burns down. These words have never rang truer than in the case of my uncle, Farook Khan. May you rest in peace, Lion of the Pen! (10 September 1944 – 3 October 2019) by Adiela Akoo

"When you truly reflect on life, you come up with such creations. I like the way Adiela has weaved simple poetic stories out of the complex strings of life in which humans remain entangled. From social to soul exploration, all has been done and depicted neatly in this poetic beauty. As a poet, I especially relate to the poetry style that is made very understandable, yet churned out of an ocean's depth." - Ruchika Pahwa Available here: https://adielaakoo.wixsite.com/writer/shop

Excited to announce that I have been invited to do a poetry reading at The Alan Paton Literary Festival, being hosted at Eden Lassie, in the beautiful Tala Valley 🙏🌹 Come and get Lost in a Quatrain with me on Saturday the 7th March 2020 from 15h00-15h30 I will be reading poetry from my book as well as some new, unpublished poems Love to see you there 💖 💖#AdielaAkoo

Four years ago, I was in class three of junior secondary school, precisely in Bright Stars Model Secondary School, Uyo, Akwa Ibom State, Nigeria. We had just finished taking our junior West African Examinations, and were preparing to go on an excursion to the swanky, five star Le Meridien hotels and suites. We were told it was the 'creme de la creme' of the state, one that housed men of elite status, coming from far and wide. We savoured the thought of being treated to such an epitome of elegance. Arriving at its premises, it took me a while to fully absorb the aura that announced the hotel. Right from the classy furnished hotel rooms, to the evergreen, tranquil golf course - not to mention the state of the art shopping mall, embedded within its meticulously designed walls - the hotel was in one word, astonishing. The impeccable designs and structuring of the edifice was what keenly caught my interest. It was from then that I began to feel great awe for civil engineering. About three weeks after my encounter at the hotel, I began to take deep analysis of my intended course of study. I began to ask the older ones around me for any insight I might get on the course. My passion for civil engineering was further skyrocketed, when I discovered the enticingly wide range of places to offer my expertise. A mere thinking about it, emboldened me to put in my very best in any and everything that relates to my course. It made me envision myself in the blue overall and white helmet, working fervently for the good of my country. Some years after, in my last class of senior secondary, when I heard the tragic news of a church that collapsed here in Akwa Ibom State - one that nearly claimed the life of the Governor and several other top officials - due to poor planning and lack of technical-know-how, I was literally saddened. Why should all those lives have to go, just because of inadequate skilled manpower and knowledge of the job? Why do we produce substandard buildings despite sometimes, adequate funding? These questions occasionally pop into my mind every now and then, inspiring me to be outstanding. To plunge into the deepest recesses of civil engineering to know more than my peers and predecessors. Engineering as a whole, is currently one of the most lucrative professions worldwide. The job of a civil engineer, is primarily to plan, design and oversee construction and maintenance of building structures and infrastructure, such as roads, railways, airports, bridges, harbours, dams, and power plants to mention a few. There are two major types of civil engineers namely, the consulting engineers and the contracting engineers. The consulting engineers are solely responsible for the design work and blueprints of building projects, and they work predominantly in an office. The contracting engineers on the other hand, take the finished designs and blueprints, and implement them during construction. They work on construction sites and oversee the construction process. Sometimes the duties of the two types of engineers can be interwoven in areas like resolving design and development problems, scheduling material and equipment purchases and deliveries, etc. The skills generally required for civil engineering, and indeed all engineering professions include, strong numeracy and IT skills, excellent communication and teamworking skills, and of course, knowledge of relevant building legislation to mention a few. Graduates searching for employment, will need a degree in civil engineering, accredited by the Institution of Civil Engineers, (ICE). Graduates who have completed a bachelor of engineering programme (BEng), can gain the status of an Incorporated engineer. Those that have completed either a Master of engineering programme(MEng), or a BEng programme plus a masters, can acquire chartered engineer (CEng) status. The status of a chartered engineer is the highest level of engineering, and is the most highly sought level of qualification by employers in various establishments ranging from rail companies, utility companies, to the dominant civil engineering based companies, construction companies. I am currently in my 100 level in the University of Uyo, Nigeria, studying of course, civil engineering. I hope to revolutionize civil engineering in Nigeria. To turn the tide to an era where civil engineering is by and large digitalized. To usher in a new age, where the practice of civil engineering in Nigeria would not only be flawless, but also would become the prodigy of the engineering world. Civil engineering is my passion, and this is my dream for Nigeria. Thank you.

A dark cloud hovered over me as I gazed at the towering wave, twice as high as it had been for the past two days. An endless stretch of darkness occupied the sky where the sun once shone brightly. At this point, I couldn't make out whether the storm was getting stronger or I was getting weak. I had to make a choice now. It started as a pleasant sea voyage that promised mornings illuminated by the beautiful sun and calm nights with a cool breeze. I was puzzled, because the ship that had floated like a feather on the ripples of the sea, was now being pushed by the waves; half-sunken with the weight of the burden it carried. Still, I promised myself that the destination which I wasn't aware of, will be worth any kind of suffering. This storm wasn't the first one since the day I embarked on this never-ending journey. I still remember the countless nights I had to spend on different islands on my way, where I had all the amenities, fortunately. There I came across people who gave advice and survival tips. Also, some became my best friends. It was very hard to leave them behind but it was where they belonged. I could have stayed there as well but I knew that it wasn't my stop. Occasionally, some of them got on the ship with me, but they got off at their destination; mine was too far apparently. It wasn't all bad. I did have days filled with warmth that gave me courage. I spent a lot of nights lying and gazing at the star-studded sky as the breeze caressed my skin; while the ship rocked smoothly in harmony with the waves. The best part was that I wasn't lonely, because my parents and siblings accompanied me. They promised that they will always be by my side, even if each of us was on our own. We had to make our own decisions, remain courageous and most importantly, never give up. This was an extremely precious thing that I learned, for I had seen people who got disappointed and gave up when the tide turned against them. Everyone here started strong but only a few remained the same. Some of them stayed wherever they found land, even if it was abandoned. Some left control of their ship, and a few even put an end to their lives and jumped into the sea. I was warned that this sea swallowed those who feared it; it wasn't a myth. There are a lot of times when I doubt if I'll ever reach where I deserve to be. I wish I could start again, at a different route but there's no point in that because I can never return to the place where I started. It has already passed a long way back. Realizing this, I cry my eyes out but it appears that with every tear coming out of my eyes, a part of my fear is shed and I keep getting stronger. I still ponder upon the reason my parents brought me here, and the purpose of this journey. The uncertainty of the future scares me. I have no clue where my destination is, but I'm sure that once I reach there, it will be the best thing that can ever happen to me; because I have witnessed people, the brave and strong-willed who made it! Right now, all I know is that whatever happens next will always be the result of my choice. Coming out of my thoughts, I saw that the wave is only getting bigger, but now I know what to do. I choose to ride over it! This sea here is life. The place where I am; where you are too. In the little time that I spent on this earth, I have learned a very valuable lesson. We are habituated to getting tired and disappointed without realizing that even the biggest hardships in life pass, just like the storm in the sea. While there are days that are filled with joy and prosperity, there are also those when we have to work tirelessly to reach our goal. Sometimes, we feel burdened with the hopes and aspirations of our parents. Then, there are times when nothing works out. I failed multiple times in my life. I still do. But I realized that nothing makes my failures permanent until the time I give up. I have seen people opting for permanent solutions to the temporary problems in their life. Everyone starts strong, but when they are on the verge of reaching their goal, they give in to a momentary fork on the road. I used to think that my ship is the only one in this sea because I had fogged my eyes with the assumption that there are people who get life handed to them on a silver plate. Each one of us goes through the same troubles in different forms. Yes, I am on my own and I am unaware of what lies ahead, but it's okay. It's okay to not know because the only thing that will make any difference is the choice I make now. I was told that nothing in life that is worth having comes easy. A different approach to this advice told me that if I am going through a hard time, then I should get ready to receive something valuable. This advice has given me the strength to face the worst of adversities with a smile on my face. Now, I know that the only thing that matters is how I choose to spend each day that I am granted; since I am the captain of my ship!

I met Lyrical when I was 2 years old. She was, and is, very special to me. The first time I held her hand, she spun me. When I was 9, Lyrical leaped away and that was disheartening, nevertheless, I found ways to follow her. She moved from town to town, but I always managed to keep in touch. I could dance with her even if it was a long journey to meet her. For some reason, she was aloof, waltzing from place to place -sometimes close, sometimes far. She required me to do more; stretch myself, comit, and not just be a friend to play with once or twice a week. Her companionship became costly, however, I always found ways to be with her. She was pushy. Twice a week became everyday and one hour sessions became four. I was spinning like the first time, but now out of control. Careening, wheeling, spiraling - Inside turns. Outside turns. I needed to learn balance. Finally, I found my center, landing in a new position. I worked harder and spent time with her. We would not always get along. She would often break my heart. I would bend to her whim then snap at her command, the shift making my body ache. But I loved it. The thrill of another day with it. I loved it most in high school where I directed my will to the discipline of technique. In the process, I was introduced to even more friends that knew her as I did. Challenging. Formidable. Intimidating. Even though this relationship has demanded much from me, it has always been my inspiration. Lyrical is ballet. She is jazz. She is Contemporary. She is tap. She is dance. She is it. Dance is my art form. It is the expression of my creativity through my body. It is the showcasing of emotions in ways words fail to convey. My everyday struggles are diminished while spinning, leaping, and jumping. And my life continues to be enriched because of it.