extended family
All about how to stay connected, strengthen ties and talk politics with your big, happy extended family.
Stay Full and Energized All Day with These High-Fiber Snacks for Weight Loss
When it comes to managing your weight and maintaining steady energy levels throughout the day, snacking can either be your best friend or your worst enemy. Many of the convenient, processed snacks available on the market are packed with refined carbs and added sugars, offering a quick energy boost followed by a crash that leaves you hungrier than before. Instead of reaching for chips or candy bars, consider fiber-rich snacks that support weight loss, gut health, and long-lasting energy.
By Ahmad shah6 months ago in Families
Why I Celebrate My Dog’s Gotcha Day More Than My Birthday
Most people circle their birthdays on the calendar, plan parties, or expect well-wishes and gifts. But to me, that date means less and less with each passing year. Instead, there’s another day I hold sacred—August 18—the day I brought home the dirty, wide-eyed mutt who changed my life.
By Echoes of Life6 months ago in Families
The Chair by the Mango Tree
I never thought a simple wooden chair could hold so much meaning. It sat under the mango tree in our ancestral courtyard for over two decades, weathered by time, dust, and laughter. But to us, it was Dada’s throne — my grandfather’s favorite place in the whole world.
By Muhammad Usama6 months ago in Families
Old is Gold: The Lantern That Lit More Than Just Rooms
In the dusty corner of an old wooden shelf sat a brass lantern—its glass smudged with age, its metal dulled by time. To most, it was just a relic, a forgotten object from the past. But to me, it was a treasure chest that didn’t need to be opened to spill stories; it only needed to be lit.
By Leah Brooke6 months ago in Families
Her mother's Enemy . AI-Generated.
Chika had never believed in love at first sight until she met Raymond. They bumped into each other at a book launch in Enugu. He was confident, eloquent, and surprisingly humble for someone who came from a wealthy family. Chika was a final-year literature student, living modestly with her widowed mother, Mma Ngozi. Raymond was pursuing his MBA and had just returned from London. They had nothing in common on the surface, yet their souls found connection over poetry and palm wine. He loved how grounded she was. She adored his discipline and vision. Within three months, they were inseparable. But they kept their relationship quiet. Chika wasn’t ready to tell her mother just yet. Mma Ngozi was fiercely protective and often reminded Chika never to "trust the children of men who wear polished shoes and speak sweet English." Eventually, Chika insisted they take the next step. She invited Raymond home for Sunday lunch. As Raymond stepped into the compound, Mma Ngozi froze at the sight of him. Her hands trembled. Chika was confused. Raymond respectfully greeted her, but Mma Ngozi ignored him. She looked at Chika and said coldly, “That boy cannot step inside my house.” After much begging and pleading, the truth came out: Raymond’s father was Chief Damian Obasi—a man who, decades ago, had falsely accused Mma Ngozi of theft when she worked as a secretary in his company. She was jailed for two years. Her fiancé left her. Her life was ruined. Chief Obasi rose in wealth and fame. Mma Ngozi fell into poverty and shame. Raymond was shocked. He had never heard that story. His father, he said, was “a man of integrity.” Chika was torn. Could she continue to love the son of her mother’s destroyer? That night, Raymond went home and confronted his father. At first, Chief Obasi denied it. But when pressed, he finally admitted: “Yes, I did it. She knew too much. She caught me diverting company funds. It was her word against mine. I protected myself. That was business.” Raymond couldn’t believe it. His father showed no remorse. Meanwhile, Mma Ngozi begged Chika to end the relationship. “Love is not stronger than betrayal,” she warned. “If you marry him, you marry my pain.” But Chika loved Raymond—and she had her own mind. The Truth Runs Deeper One week later, Chika received a call from Raymond. “I need you to meet someone,” he said. They met at a quiet café outside town. To Chika’s surprise, Raymond arrived with a woman—his mother. Not Chief Obasi’s wife. The woman introduced herself as Grace. Raymond’s biological mother. She explained she had been Chief Obasi’s secretary... the very same time Mma Ngozi worked there. Grace revealed that she and Mma Ngozi were close friends. When Ngozi was accused, Grace tried to testify but was threatened. Out of fear and silence, she left the country. She later gave birth to Raymond in the UK—after Chief Obasi raped her during that same period. Raymond was not raised by Chief Obasi. He only reconnected with his father in adulthood after returning to Nigeria. Chika broke down in tears. Her mother’s enemy had never truly been Raymond. The real enemy was silence and shame passed through generations. She begged her mother to meet Grace—and they did. For the first time in 30 years, Mma Ngozi found closure. Two women, both victims of the same man, finally stood side by side as survivors. Chika and Raymond decided to marry—but not in grandeur. They held a small village ceremony, with both mothers present, standing united. Chief Obasi was not invited. When he heard of the wedding, he tried to send a gift. Chika sent it back… unopened. Love doesn’t conquer all—but truth, when faced with courage, can heal even the deepest generational wounds.
By Muhammad sufyan6 months ago in Families
The Old Jacket in the Closet
When my grandfather passed away, we didn’t cry at first. We were too busy making phone calls, arranging funeral prayers, greeting distant relatives, and trying to hold ourselves together. It was only after the house emptied, and silence returned, that grief settled in like dust — quietly and everywhere.
By Muhammad Usama6 months ago in Families
The Last Letter
The Last Letter Some words are written not to be sent, but to be discovered when the soul is ready to receive them. Zayan hadn’t stepped inside his grandmother’s home in over ten years. Now, walking through the wooden front door, he was instantly transported to a different time. The scent of rosewater clung to the air, just as it had when he was a boy. The ticking of the old clock on the wall was steady, calming yet eerie, like it had been counting down to this moment. Everything inside the house was still and silent, like the home itself was holding its breath.
By Suliman khan 7 months ago in Families
The Father
THE man whose story is here to be told was the wealthiest and most influential person in his parish; his name was Thord Overaas. He appeared in the priest's study one day, tall and earnest. "I have gotten a son," said he, "and I wish to present him for baptism."
By Moments & Memoirs7 months ago in Families
