Occupy till she comes.

I’ve been waiting in the car for thirty minutes now.


Sitting comfortably in the car enjoying Logo’s album. Track 8 – ‘Have you said a prayer to God today’  playing. It’s a very beautiful song. You should listen to it. The gateman is wondering why I am sitting alone in the car and not driving. When he heard me start the car, he ran to open the gate. It’s ten minutes after and Oga hasn’t moved. I giggle as I imagine his frustration – he wonders if he should close back the gate or just leave it open till I am ready to drive out. He moves closer to the car and I pretend I am not aware of his presence.

My tab is on my laps and I am writing in the car. I am actually writing this piece in the car. And he looks even more curious.

It’s 7:25pm. The sun is finally set, the few thin strips of clouds on the horizon is turning shimmering gold. The meeting I am going for started 7pm. And I’m still typing away in the car. It would look like I do not care that I am late or I have no respect for time. But that is so not true.

The truth is, I am waiting for my wife!

And guess what, I’m not even upset. She probably thinks I am (and I will like for her to think so, by the way) but I’m not. Strange, right?

I used to be. But I realized my complaints were like the babblings of a child, it was like speaking Chinese to a Mexican. So the last time we were at it, I gave it a serious thought and took a chill pill.

I’m going to be with her for the rest of my life, yeah, God-willing, for the rest of my life. And when I look around, it’s almost possible every man I know share same sentiments about having to wait for their wives whenever they have an outing. The jury is still out on what it is one can do to solve this problem. We all probably have to live with it. Basically, the supposition is to just accept it. And one wonders why. Because punctuality isn’t a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the menfolk.

“Sir, are you okay?” The gateman knocked the car window.

“I’m fine, Caleb. Thank you.”

Several excuses come up for making me wait like this. From ‘I can’t find my phone’ to ‘I need to use the toilet’ to ‘I’m trying to finish my make-up’ to ‘can’t decide what shoe to wear’ to ‘I’m giving Josephine last minute instructions’ to ‘I’m making sure the children are fine’ to ‘I forgot my purse’ to….just nothingness, as in nothing in particular. You just can’t see or place your hands on what it is that makes her drag her feet.

Anyway, I concluded, the time is pretty short, the energy used in getting upset and pensive can be channeled to something more positive, I thought (I mean, like I am doing right now.) And truth be told, I’m not getting any younger and I want to be here for a while. No need to become hypertensive because someone is still learning how to be punctual. So, I consider all these and I gave my life to Christ again.

However, I have learnt to make my wait-time very productive and enjoyable. And seriously, I’m on it like white on rice. It’s amazing.

Those little little tasks that I’ve always been looking for time to do and have not been able to find time to do, I finally see there’s ample time to do them. They may seem insignificant tasks but they are quite important.

So here’s what I do while I wait:

I pick my phone and start deleting all those unsolicited, unwarranted spam text messages Glo and Etisalat send to me. All the Glokonga promo on shopping online, all those that ask you to borrow credit, the free for five days sport news, plenty millions lotto promo, how to get 60%discount on Jumia Payday deals, those tips on toning your muscles and great diet, first aid tips and lots more. What I do? I delete all of them! I start deleting them while I wait.

I get a wipe and begin to clean all the corners and hidden dirt areas in the car that the boys don’t always see when they wash the car. I use toothpick and tissue and bring out those dirt that no towel or sponge can reach. I get a handkerchief and clean them all. I start cleaning while I wait.

I also use the time to clean and cut my nails. I remove my eye glasses, bring out the lenses and clean them.

And most efficient of all, I pick up my tab and start writing, like I am doing right now. And that just makes it even more fun – even if it is writing about the fact that I’m writing. I write while I wait.

Basically, I occupy till she comes.

Yes, we will be late for that meeting or appointment, and I really wish it’s not so. But, at the moment, there’s absolutely nothing I can do about it. Of course, I’m hoping someday she will be prompt and swifter, but before then, I occupy.

And whenever she comes, she will find me doing something.

Wasn’t that what Christ told us? To occupy till He comes.

Once I log on to my wait-time, I pick up my little tasks and occupy. Cool as the other side of the pillow.

“Olami, e ma binu. I’m sorry, please.” Suddenly the car door opens. Behold my wife! “I needed to give the children their meds.”

Add that to the list of reasons.

“Baby, we are so late. You need to be more time conscious, please!” I wore my frown face perfectly and closed the tablet. I cannot be seen to condone lateness. My acting skills came in handy.

“Sorry, please.” She stretched her hand and rubbed my head. My heart bowed down like violets after rain. This babe truly has my mumu button. “Did you take your card?” She strapped on her seat belt.

“I have it.” I put the car in Reverse and honked for Caleb to open the gate a second time. “I hope we get seats close to the front.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”


We made it in time for the food.


And this will hold true for a single person out there – Occupy till he comes.

While you wait, Occupy till he comes.

Go to school.

Learn a new skill.

Start that project.

Join a dance class.

Start the business.

Serve in your local church.

Travel, see beautiful places.

Write that professional exam.

Pick up a teenager and mentor.

Log on to something productive.

Help a widow.

Assist an orphan.



Wait-time could be frustrating.

You get worked up. You become nasty. Sometimes gloomy and moody. You become bitter. You wonder what’s keeping him/her ‘upstairs.’ You ask, when will it be? Time seems to be running out. The clock is ticking and it looks like it’s getting dark.

Make your wait-time productive.

Occupy. Till he comes.



Written by juwonodutayo

Writer. Tutor. Speaker. Blogger. Roger Federer Fan.


Leave a Reply
  1. Gbammmmm!
    You’ve really nailed it with this article! I guess this is a syndrome that virtually ALL husbands (and I’m sure quite a number of wives too) have experienced, but I love your perspective on “Occupying tI’ll he/she come. ”
    Looks like I now also have a solution! Keep up the wonderful work Juwon!

  2. Great piece that offers a better solution to our waiting crisis. As I choose to be happy, I also choose to occupy till she comes.
    Thanks a bunch my brother for being so real and transparent.

  3. Interesting write up. Love your writings, so real and practical. You also know how to keep your audience glued till the end. Keep up the good work Juwon.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *