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Good People

Published by Osemhen

I noticed when you joined the queue, you both wore suits and I wondered if you were married. I wondered where you worked. Idle thoughts, I was more concerned with getting a seat on the 7pm Aero flight to Lagos. It was the last flight out of Port Harcourt with free seats.

My heart sank when, after almost 20 minutes on the queue, the Aero teller announced that the POS machine wasn’t working. I’d have to pay cash.

I didn’t have any cash . I heard you mutter that you didn’t have any cash either. This was 5:20.

I made my way to the ATM, to the queues that dragged. I was number 7 on one queue; fifteen minutes later, you joined the other queue.

My GTB card did not work. 20 minutes on the ATM queue, and my card did not work. I stepped off the queue. You asked me what the problem was. I replied that I needed to transfer money to my First Bank card so I could use it.

You got to the front of the queue. I watched you withdraw cash effortlessly. I joined the other queue, waited another 20 minutes to get to the machine. And again, I got the error message, “Issuer or switch inoperative.”

I was desperate. I had no plans to sleep in Port Harcourt that night, I was tired, completely out of cash and time was running out. Again, I joined the end of the queue. And for the third time, I got an error message on both of my cards. I tried to get my husband to book the ticket online but that option was no longer available on their website. I was, for all intents and purposes, stranded.

I saw you both walk past to the Genesis restaurant. In the time it had taken me to make my way to the front of the ATM queue, you had booked your tickets. It was almost 6:30 and I hadn’t booked mine. My choices were limited. I did something I’ve never done before.

I walked up to you in Genesis and I asked you, complete strangers to lend me N20,000.

I didn’t look particularly credit-worthy. My hair was in a messy bun, dragging my luggage back and forth had left me sweaty, my shoes were dusty, and my trousers were covered in lint.

But you replied, “Ah, I was even going to ask you if you needed money.”

And you gave me the money. You didn’t ask for my phone number so you could follow up, you didn’t demand any sort of guarantees. At my request, you wrote your account number on a piece of paper and bid me farewell.

At the Aero desk, the price had gone up. Again, I turned to the person behind me to lend me the extra 3k I needed. And he did. Again, without any guarantees that I would pay back.

Thank you.

Because of you, I made it to Lagos at past 8 in the night. I tried both my debit cards at MMA2 and they worked. Sigh. A miracle. And all the wahala was worth the smile on my husband’s face as he welcomed me home.

People like you are the reason I still have faith in humanity, in Nigerians. I’ve paid you back, I did the bank transfers first thing Friday morning. But I knew I had to write this. To thank you and that other kind gentleman. And to let others know that people like you exist. Again, thank you.

Hi, guys. Please share this post as many times as you can, to as many people as you can so it reaches these wonderful Nigerians. I really hope they get to read this. Thank you!

I Did A Life Audit Instead Of Just Making Resolutions…I Think It Worked

Published by Osemhen

I know, I know. In the last post, more readers voted for the Zeus and Amadioha piece. But as I started writing it, I realized that the pictures I wanted to use were in my camera and it’s hundreds of kilometers away. I’ll have it by next week, though. So I promise that piece then. Forgiven? Thanks! 🙂

I stumbled across the idea of a Life Audit on FastCompany. The concept is simple enough. You lock yourself in a room with a pen and a stack of blank Post-it notes and a bottle of water (because the process makes you thirsty, apparently). If you need to, you put a “Do Not Disturb” sign outside.
Then you start to write your goals. Every single one of them, no matter how outlandish or silly. No matter how big. One goal per Post-It. This process can take anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours. I actually did this over a 3-day period; I couldn’t find the time to do it at once. When you’re spent (or you run out of Post-Its), you sort out the goals into the common themes that surface. Family, work, personal development, finances, spirituality. You sort them into time-based categories: Do everyday, do this year, do in five years, longer term. Then the harder work starts. You draw up plans to accomplish them.

Messy Desk. And look, I almost finished my bottle of water.

I love plans. I am a planner. I am obsessed with plans. I really, really, really like plans. This is probably why the Life Audit appealed to me. Like almost everyone I know, I’m cynical about new year resolutions (awon cool kids. Lol.). But a plan? I can work a plan.

There were things I wanted to learn, places I wanted to visit, skills I wanted to learn, attitudes I wanted to have. The person I wanted to be. There were short-term goals like “draft my tasks and targets at work for 2015”. And there were long-term goals like “give a TedTalk someday” (suggestions on possible topics welcome :)). There were everyday goals like “Call one friend and one relative everyday.” (And considering how much I prefer texting, this is a big deal for me.)

Steve Jobs talked about being able to connect the dots when looking back. For me, this audit was an attempt to connect them forward. It forced me to think about how I use my time and resources. And it put me on a path towards continuous improvement. Realizing that I couldn’t find the time to sit in front of a PC and write, I’m now learning to write with my tablet. I’m learning that the days of my youth, when I could lie on a bed somewhere and read novels for hours at a stretch, are over. I can only hope to snatch a chapter here and there, in traffic, on a plane, while waiting on a queue etc. I bought Emily Post’s Book on Etiquette because one of my goals was to be more considerate, and learning good manners seemed like a good place to start (“When someone says, “Thank you,” the best response is, “You’re welcome.” Don’t be bashful— accept the credit for your kindness. It’s subtle, but an “It was nothing” is actually saying that you place no value on what you did.”).

And here’s the thing. In December, I won’t beat myself up too much if I don’t meet them all. These are not my 2015 resolutions. It’s a Life Audit; a lot of it is made up of lifelong goals that I’ve decided will make me happy. What matters is that I keep working the plan(s) and making progress. The journey is part of the satisfaction.

I’d like to urge you to do a Life Audit. You don’t have to wait till January. You can find more information here. Do it, and share the outcomes with your friends or family for accountability purposes. If you feel brave enough, you can come discuss it in the comments’ section. 🙂

First Post of 2015

Published by Osemhen

Today I smiled at my own reflection in the mirror.

I was alone.

This hasn’t happened in a long time, a very long time. Don’t get me wrong, I smile all the time, everyday. I smile at strangers, I smile at friends, I smile flicking through pictures on my phone. But it’s been a long time since I smiled, really smiled at my reflection in the mirror and meant it.

I don’t even know what it means but it felt good.

I’ve missed writing. I’ve been scared, though. Scared to write because it forces me to face my emotions. But yes, this is me facing my emotions.

How are you?

It’s Lent, one of my favorite seasons. I love Lenten hymns. I love saying the Stations of the Cross. I like the results that come from the typical Lenten observances. Simply trying to reduce my usual indulgences has a profound effect on my peace of mind and my productivity. I wonder why I don’t practice the same ascetism all year round.

I have many things to say, but I don’t know what to say. I just felt like I had to write today, and put this out here. To break this jinx.

Thank you all for your kind wishes on my marriage and my brother’s passing. Your words gave me courage, you are one of the reasons I can smile.

I’m going to try an experiment. I’m going to let you decide what I should write on next.

1. My Life Audit and the “Resolutions” I came up with or,
2. A primer on travelling alone in a strange country or,
3. The Problem with Zeus and Amadioha

Let me know in the comments’ box. 😀

You Are Legend

Published by Osemhen

I thought I knew what loss was when I wrote “Laughter & Champagne.” But this is worse.

His room still smells of him. I never noticed till he was gone. But his room has a distinct smell. It is the scent of Icy-Hot, the smell of folic acid, a hint of Dettol Cool and Vaseline Aloe-Vera. This is what his room smells like.

This is how to console a bereaved person.

Visit…and sit in silence, saying nothing. Or saying a lot, distracting them.

Bring food in Ziplocs and plastic bowls. So that we do not have to cook.

Do the dishes that keep mounting up because “guests” persist in eating the food other people have brought to console the family.

Sweep.

This is how not to console a bereaved person.

Hold them too tightly when they cry.

We don’t cry because we want hugs. We cry so that the sadness does not implode in our chests. We cry because we miss our love, because we can’t imagine the rest of our lives without hearing their voice, or seeing their smile, or feeling their hug. And this is perfectly acceptable, right, to cry about these things? So why do you stifle me, do my tears make you uncomfortable? Or do you just feel a need to be useful?

He was my twin. It was barely a year between us. And yet, we felt like halves of the same coin.

It’s different when a parent dies. You know your parents will die, someday. You know you don’t have them forever.

It’s so different when your brother dies. The one whose first word wasn’t “Mama”, but an infant’s pronunciation of your name, “Meh-meh.” The one whose cries you interpreted to your astonished parents, “He’s crying because he wants water…because he wants to sleep.” The one you went to school with, shared secrets with. The one who persuaded you to stick your head between the bars of the burglary-proof gates, and then abandoned you when Daddy came with a smacking. The one who teased Janet’s dog with you, and then ran faster when the dog broke loose, leaving you to suffer the attack and subsequent bites. The one you had extra lessons with at the dining table in the small house off Allen Avenue. The one you cried with when your mother died, because your two younger sisters were too small to realize. The one you walked with to Chamuke’s house. The one. The one. The one.

The one you expected to be by your side growing old.

It feels like I’ve been amputated.

So incomplete. And again, my entire life is divided into Before and After.

I still see you, my brother. I still see your smile, I still hear your laugh.

We were four, and now we are three. It’s like our identity is broken.

My brother, I know it’s best for you to be gone but God, I miss you. I miss you and there are no words to describe the missing.

You won’t be at my wedding?

**********************************

I once tweeted that there is nothing more calming than the sleep sounds of the people I love. I had no idea how true those words were. When I prowl our house at night, I wait to hear the sounds of his snoring. And I don’t. How is it possible that everything is so empty?

The clichés rush my mind. I think it’s a dream, a horrible mistake, that by some stroke of divine intervention, he shows up with a, “There was a mistake.” And I would hug him, kiss him, smile, laugh, wear some make-up and my best clothes and we would have a party.

He was just 25, my God.

Osemhen. I have some bad news. Okhafo is dead.

It was all my nightmares come true.

Hey, brother.

Sister mi.

I can actually survive for days on nothing but a Sprite per day. It’s not so much that I forget to eat as that food seems inconsequential. It doesn’t matter. Or it does. Maybe it matters too much. Food has betrayed me. I said it last year on this blog; there is nothing as comforting as cooking for the people you love. I love cooking. I used to love cooking. Now, it has lost its pleasure. Cooking for who? My brother, my biggest fan, the one who was always willing to be my guinea pig is dead. And all the meals I used to make for him, all the special dietary needs I tried to cater to, all of it doesn’t matter. My best efforts didn’t work. My brother is dead.

And so I stroll past the orange seller in his wheel-barrow. Before, I would buy a dozen to juice for my brother. Now, I never want to see another orange in my life.

It is a tenuous connection to this world. I feel guilty about the conflicting emotions.

If there was no one else who loved me in this world, I would wish to join my brother. But my father…and my sisters who still need me to be strong for them…and K, darling K whose eyes are haunted by my grief. I’m here, we’re here, Life is here.

And never has the future looked so bleak. What is a future that is missing its past?

Okhafo is custodian of our childhood memories. Okhafo is trips to the beach, watching Alladin over and over and over, the Ikeja Bomb Blast and going to school together in the afternoon, the medical doctor who knocked us down in Maryland because he took his eyes off the road for a second.

I want to hold my brother’s hand again, and squeeze it tight. I want to exchange a secret smile and watch his cheeks dimple in that way that everyone loved (and some envied). I want to laugh together at something profoundly silly. I want to hear him stutter. I want to buy him another shawarma. I want to take Daddy’s car and drive to Ice-cream Factory after church and get ice-cream-wasted. I want to discuss another Ted Dekker novel. What am I to do with all your t-shirts that still smell of you? What am I to do with your laptop, your phone?

It’s been two weeks and my acne has returned; I can’t be bothered to treat my face. And I don’t care. And I’ve lost so much weight my wedding dress no longer fits. And I don’t care. How could I have taken for granted the simple blessing of having 3 siblings, our bond and unity unbroken?

And this is me protesting, my God.

And this is me accepting, my God.

When I am spent from crying, and my heart smashed to smithereens and my mind blown to the point that my head aches. This is me accepting, my God.

Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” And Martha answered, “I know he will rise again in the resurrection at the last day.”

Oh, brother. Do you know, do you know that now you are legend?

For Okhafo Daniel Richard Oghenekevwe Akhibi (September 13, 1989 – November 12, 2014)

These Words Expose Us…

Published by Osemhen

So I have a bit of news 🙂

I may or may not have mentioned that one of my stories got accepted for publication in an anthology. The good news is that the anthology is finally out! *rings bell*

The anthology is titled, “These Words Expose Us” (intriguing, I know) and the theme is words. We were challenged to “explore just how important the words we say (or don’t say to each other), affect our lives and relationships with others sometimes for the better and sometimes unfortunately, the worse”. A lot of the stories did justice to that theme, if I do say so myself 🙂

But seriously, the stories and the writing are pretty good. I’m especially proud of the fact that more Africans are starting to own our writing space, as writers and publishers. We’ve been a bit hesitant, I think and this project is a step towards challenging the status quo. We’re telling our own stories, and we’re telling them with a nod to the past, a grasp of our present reality and our eyes on the future. The fact that the writers are all under 30 is telling. I wouldn’t go so far as to assume that we’re a fair representation of our generation but I daresay that any young African will relate with at least one of the stories. *spiel over*

Now that I’ve gingered you, here’s the link to where you can get more information on the book. Click the link to find out about how to pre-order the book (at a discount) or buy it online. A few weeks back, I was on Inspiration FM discussing the anthology and my story “Orange Tree”, in particular. You can listen to that interview here (Titi, the radio host, also read an excerpt of my story.)

I’ll share more information on things like launch parties and book signings as soon as I get them.

Meanwhile, here’s a short excerpt from my story, “Orange Tree”. You can listen to a longer excerpt in the radio interview. Enjoy 🙂

***

The Esan have a custom. When a child is born in diaspora, her placenta is sent to the village and buried in the family’s compound with an orange tree planted on the spot. So that we do not forget where we come from, so that for always, the village has a hold on us, a part of us that calls to us wherever we are.

I was seven when Daddy told me. Some of my memories of him fade like old sepia photos, but I remember that night well. The way his bald head gleamed in the light of the kerosene lamp, the military precision of his voice clipping out the words, the cloying stillness of the air because the windows were too small and we were in the middle of the dry season, the tang of Mama’s perfume from behind me.

I want to see my tree. Will you take me to see my tree, Daddy?

Of course.

Don’t give her ideas, Uyi. It’s superstition, all superstition, Ivie, do you hear me?

Hmmm, mmmm.

Say Yes, Mama.

Yes, Mama.

***

26.

Published by Osemhen

I was going to do a proper blog post but my heart is too full. Instead, I’m sharing my favourite memories from the past year (as captured in various pictures). In chronological order… 🙂

That time a bunch of strangers in Lagos all agreed to hang out at Bogobiri and discuss politics, relationships and just chill. 🙂
Bogobiri… 🙂

It’s so dark though
That time he traveled from Lagos to PH just to surprise me on Valentine’s Day. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him!
The Best…Really
That time a different set of friends decided to shoot our own “Happy in Port Harcourt” video, and it turned into a picnic with chocolate cake, popcorn, puff-puff and zobo 🙂 We will release that video…one day.
We Were Happy 🙂
That time he asked me to be his wife <3 🙂
#Pretty

No Words…
That time we decided to take a family portrait just as I was stepping out of the shower with my freshly washed hair still dripping! I was worried but I think it turned out okay 😀
La Familia 🙂
That time he brought me a birthday cake, and I realized my plans to have no celebration whatsoever had been totally destroyed. But my team-mates are amazing guys. Yes… I’m spending my birthday at work.
Orange is the New Black… 🙂 Forgive how orange we look.

@Kitchnbutterfly once told me, “How you live your days is how you live your life.” My days have been awesome. Here’s to more laughter, better champagne, gourmet coffee, fine chocolate and friends that stick closer than family. Above all, here’s to God who never leaves me in doubt about His Love, despite my unworthiness. I love you, Lord. Thank you.

Turkish Coffee for the Gals Dem…

Resources That Make My Life Easier… (Part 1)

Published by Osemhen

Hello, everyone

So I thought I’d share some of the things I use/do that make my life easier. This might help you if you’re trying to get a handle on living as a responsible adult (I wish adulthood came with a manual!). First, my top 5 apps (they’re all available on the iTunes and Play Stores):

Any.do: Amazing app that helps me create and track my To-Do List. It prompts me to plan my day, and then rings a little alarm when tasks are due to be started.
Duolingo: Another amazing app that teaches me languages in bite-sized lessons every day. I’m now learning Spanish.
Moneywise: Helps me track my daily expenditure. It requires a bit of work (you have to enter every single expense) but it’s worth it. At the end of the month, I can compare my expenses to my planned budget, identify the areas where I spent the most money, and make corrections to my spending habits as necessary.
Nike Training Club: A free fitness app. Yay! Basically it’s a personal trainer on your phone, complete with work-out programs for specific needs (to get lean, toned or strong).

5. McKinsey Insights: From their website, “McKinsey & Company is the trusted advisor and counselor to many of the world’s most influential businesses and institutions”. And they aren’t lying. One of my short-term goals is to expand my worldview and think outside of the box that being an engineer sometimes puts me in. The posts I access via this app are…insightful. I often feel like a quick burst of intelligence has been injected into my veins. No kidding.

In addition, I load all (I mean all) my reading material on my Kindle. All my magazine subscriptions – Fantasy & Science Fiction, The Word Among Us, Harvard Business Review, The Paris Review, The New Yorker and National Geographic – deliver to my Kindle, saving me shelf-space and increasing ease of reading. If you don’t have a tablet, you should get one. Think of it as a necessity, not a luxury (there are a number of relatively cheap tablets on the market). When you’re stuck in traffic or travelling even for an hour, you can catch up on your reading.

Another advantage of the Kindle is the opportunity to buy books as soon as they’re published instead of waiting for them to hit the bookshelves in Nigeria. If you’re like me, and you want your books RIGHT NOW, this is a godsend. And If I like the book well enough, then I’ll buy the paperback when I see it.

Apart from the apps (and my magazine subscriptions), here are two books on my Kindle that are helping me on my journey towards greater productivity and better time management.

Eat That Frog: “There’s an old saying that if the first thing you do in the morning is to eat a live frog, you’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that it’s probably the worst thing you’ll do all day.” There’s another saying that if you have to eat a frog, make sure you eat the biggest one you can find. And this summarizes one of the key principles of this book. Identify the important task that you run the risk of procrastinating, and do it first. First. Eat that frog. Even if I don’t finish this book, this principle is one I’ll always apply.
Do The Work: I literally just started reading this book today because it got rave reviews from someone whose opinion I trust. I may do a review later if it’s worth it.

Despite all of this, I still walk around with a pocketbook and a pen. Because nothing beats the visceral satisfaction of scribbling for me. It’s my therapy. 🙂

So what about you? What apps are helping you take on this brave, new world? What books are helping you get mentally fit? What are your strategies, your shortcuts?

Conversations With a Gold Digger

Published by Osemhen

But I got bored with Excel sheets, and VLOOKUP and Pivot tables so I decided to doodle instead. And I wrote this. Hope it relieves the doldrums of your Monday like it did mine.

Her: I have a date tomorrow.

Him: Do you now?

Her: Yup!

Him: Is he tall, dark and handsome?

Her: Yup!

Him: Is he rich?

Her: Stinking rich.

Him: He’s going to use you and dump you.

Her: How do you know that?

Him: Because guys like him don’t date girls like you with your Erykah Badu hair and your weird political ideas.

Her: I do not have weird political ideas.

Him: You think Mandela was a communist!

Her: But he was.

Him: Tall, dark and handsome men don’t become rich holding opinions like that. You aren’t suited for each other. It’ll be all over in a week.

Her: You’re just jealous.

Him: Of course I am. How can you go on a date with a tall, dark, handsome and rich fella? What if he steals you away from me?

Her: Then we weren’t meant to be.

Him: I thought I was your one true love.

Her: You are…for now.

Him: Wicked woman. (absently changes TV channel) You are absolutely wicked.

Her: Desperately wicked, you mean. The heart of man is desperately wicked.

Him: Now you quote scripture. The heart of man is desperately wicked. The heart of woman is absolutely wicked.

Her: I love you, Boo.

Him: I love you too. Don’t go on this date.

Her: But he’s everything a woman could hope for.

Him: Okay. I hope he spills wine on your dress, and your heel breaks and you get spinach stuck between your teeth.

Her: You are pure evil, you know that right?

Him: Only when I’m jealous.

Her: You know what you should do? You should find someone to go on a date with. Someone who is everything a man could hope for.

Him: But girls like that only like rich men. I have no money…maybe I should borrow some from your date?

Her: We’ll ask him tomorrow.

A Lenten Reflection on Faith

Published by Osemhen

This is who I am. This woman in her mid-twenties, with a day job and a writing itch. A daughter. A sister. The “best girlfriend in the world”. A cousin. A niece. A best friend. A friend. A colleague. A side-kick. A buddy. A Catholic. A practicing Catholic.

And what does that even mean?

I left the Catholic Church as a teenager. I was disillusioned by many of the adult Catholics around me including, it must be said, a couple of priests. I didn’t understand the “idol worship”, or how the Catholic Church could help me develop the faith I needed to move the mountains in my life. And there were many mountains that needed moving.

So I left in search of the Light. And I found it…in the Catholic Church. Let me explain.

I searched in other churches, and I found sparks, glimmers that whetted my appetite. In one of the pentecostal fellowships I joined in university, I learnt to study sacred Scripture. In another, I learned to give to the church, to only offer to God that which cost me something. In yet another, I learnt to make time for God in my daily life. I learnt to “fix my mind on what is pure and admirable”, to screen the music, movies, conversations and books I let into my life.

But they weren’t enough.

Don’t get me wrong, those experiences affected my life immeasurably. I would not take my faith this seriously today if I had not left the Catholic Church and encountered these other denominations. They made it possible. I’m talking specifically about a certain Pastor Ibukun who inspired me to be a beautiful, well-spoken, professional woman who loved God passionately. Because she did. And there aren’t many Catholic women who inspire me like she did.

But there is more to faith than inspirations of other humans. I met Catholics who convinced me to give the Church another go. I found chapels that I could kneel and pray in for hours without the distraction of someone bursting into “speaking in tongues” beside me. And I have nothing against speaking in tongues, but after years of being told a “stubborn spirit” was blocking my ability to engage in that activity, I came to the simple conclusion that I just did not have that particular “gift”.

And then, I fell in love with the mass. With its simplicity and its routine. With the Latin, with the weight of history. The Catholic Church was the only one that, it seemed, affirmed Jesus as a historical fact, man-made flesh 2000 years ago and look, we remember his sacrifice on the cross E-V-E-R-Y-D-A-Y.

And then I read C.S. Lewis and realized that Christianity isn’t meant to be an easy joyride. I am asked to take up my cross everyday and follow the Christ. And we all have different types of crosses. At different times in my life, the crosses have been different. No money in the bank. Poor health (mine and my family’s). Disappointments. Failures. The scorn of others. All of them, my crosses. And some were easier to bear with a smiling face. And others I reacted badly to, in a very unChristian fashion.

And this is what I understand my faith to be:

To love the Lord my God with all my heart, soul and strength – to seek His face, to not allow sin or situation to separate me from Him, to strive to do what is right before Him, to freely subject my will to His. It was more than obeying the 10 commandments, it was knowing why the 10 commandments were given and internalizing them.

To love my neighbour as myself – to continually and actively seek the good of everyone God places within my environment. This shows up in things as little as letting a car cut in front of me in traffic.

And I held up everything I was being taught in the churches/fellowships against these principles. Many things didn’t make the cut. For instance, I didn’t understand having to “fast” for good grades. Good grades came from good work, and good work came from studying/natural precociousness (for those so blessed). Instead of fasting for good grades at the end of semester, I preferred to pray for the discipline to study at the beginning of the semester.

The more I discovered what my path to God was, the more I came to see it was all there in the Catholic Church, in the first place. I should never have left, maybe. But if I hadn’t, would I own my faith as I do now?

I’m not a perfect Christian. I don’t always let people cut in front of me; I have taken my car to the panel beater’s too many times. I still listen to music, see movies and read books that I know portray ideas that are contrary to the faith. I still struggle with justice and fairness and chastity and modesty. I still have a temper and let it loose more often than I care to count. I still compare myself to others and wallow in self-pity. I still put my will first, sometimes.

I am, many times, a sorry excuse for a Christian.

But the trying is everything. Someone once said, “You must want to love God. That’s the essence. Wanting with all your heart, soul and strength to love God. And even if you don’t want to love Him, you must want to want to love Him.”

And that is what it means for me to be a Christian/Catholic.

What does your faith mean?

Which Were Your Favourite Books of 2013?

Published by Osemhen

The year’s winding up, and as usual, I want to find out which of the books you read in 2013 had the most effect on you, and why. Please share your favourite fiction book, and your favourite non-fiction book. You can reply in the comments’ section and you can take the conversation to Twitter/Facebook with the hashtag #abookIreadin2013.

I’ll go first.

Favourite Fiction Book of 2013: This was a difficult choice because I read so many fantastic books this year. But Khaled Hosseini’s “And The Mountains Echoed” wins, beating “Children of the Jacaranda Tree” and “Burma Boy”. I love how Khaled writes, I love his stories, I love the sense of kinship I feel with Afghans after reading his books. I totally recommend this book.

Favourite Non-Fiction Book of 2013: This was an easy choice. Sheryl Sandberg’s Lean In (labelled the “Feminist Bible” in some circles) is a thought-provoking book for women who have careers outside of their homes. I don’t agree with all of Sheryl’s ideas (e.g. I don’t think it’s as easy as she makes it look to balance home/work) but I took away some very important lessons: “Done” is better than “Perfect” and the importance of female professionals speaking up at male dominated meetings/conferences instead of just being wall flowers. I can personally testify that it helped me make an impression with bosses/managers who would otherwise never have known I existed. I recommend it for all women.

Your turn. What were your favourite books of 2013, fiction and non-fiction?