a cooking pot and twisted tales
Thoughts and Tales…A Lifestyle Blog with a Zing.
For so long,
I have simply EXISTED!
From now on,
I choose to LIVE!
©
Jacqueline
I became one of those who disappeared…
diving into the belly of disjointed thoughts
malaise, discontent and limbo
I became one of those who disappeared
my voice broken and rusty
like an old unused tap on an abandoned site
I became one of those who disappeared
saving all my energy for survival
battling existential crisis
I became one of those who disappeared…
from out of the deep a voice called
head raised, I stare into the sun
it’s not yet over…
© Jacqueline 2019
Image credit – Pixabay
Hazy eyes’ peered through the glass, gazing at acres of palm trees disappear as they sped past. The bleak look in them grew with each mile covered, widening the gap between her and home, between the known and unknown.
They told her that she is heading for better things; for greener pastures. They told her that she’s the only hope for the family, they told her many things…
Yes, Akunnia wanted to help the family. Indeed, she truly wanted to be a saving grace. Yet, she couldn’t stop the incessant trickle of hot tears and the lump in her throat from getting bigger with each speed bump the van took as it gradually wound its way away from the dusty paths of her village to the big city.
How did greener pastures leave her feeling like a chattel used to repay family debts to a grouchy tradesman well-known for his poor treatment of others? The weight of her looming situation sat heavy on her slight sixteen-year shoulders.
she turned
unwillingly against her will,
by the stroke of faith
and lottery played
by virtue of birth
she became
one of those diligent
bowed, sad women
who live on a long course
of docile, thankless servitude
she lived
in fear of showing,
saying or doing the wrong thing
her desires swallowed
dreams doused and denied
she smiled
pretending to have
no misgivings about life
but when you looked closely
silent desperation stood stark and pathetic
© 2019 Jacqueline
I know many women like this. Maybe you know one too. They are all around you. Maybe you used to be one of them.
In my place, it is commonly said that “when they carry the corpse of someone you don’t know, it simply seems like the pallbearers are carrying an old box.” To make the understanding clearer, when we are insulated and are not directly affected by wicked acts of fellow men, the outcomes of those actions barely cause us to pause and think.
Until we all as humans recognize that everybody has a right to life whatever race or colour they may be, whatever religion they choose to believe in, whatever gender or sexual affiliation they lean to, whatever tongue they may speak in…
until we as humans realize that no one is superior to the other and that all men are created equal – men used figuratively in this sense…
until we humans understand that the migration of people has been happening from the beginning of time and whether we like it or not, mixing of races and change is inevitable…
until we as individuals begin to question our love for hatred, bigotry, division and discrimination, prejudice and intolerance…
until we start to hold the toes of our leaders to the fire and hold them accountable for their utterances and misbegotten directions…
until we lose the cloak of apathy that seems to have pervaded our minds and taken place in our hearts where empathy should be…
until we as individuals search our souls and ask ourselves if we are truly living and reflecting the goodness that we want to see in the world…
despicable and horrific occurrences like mass shooting will continue to gather momentum…
and who knows…
maybe one day, that old rickety box might very well become ours to bear.
We take our given days for granted, 24 hours fly past so fast that most times weeks and months all meld together into a blur.
They go by whilst we stay planning for all the things that we will do tomorrow which we could have done today.
We plan for the big moments when all lines will fall into the right place, that we tend to forget that one day when we grow old together, we will remind each other about these days that seemed ordinary and uneventful, yet when we take a good look, we will find chockful heart-tugging memories wedged in-between these days.
Your best life is now, not tomorrow.
Life is so unscripted,
that most times
when we struggle so hard
to get the best lines
we end up with the wrong parts.
©
Jacqueline
Very few of our problems are solved alone. If you cannot share your deepest concerns with a trusted friend, seek counselling to help you shift the burden of thoughts that weigh you down.
Most times, all it takes for us to feel better and to get a grip of things is a pair of listening ears – and a stranger’s ears can be therapeutic.
Wisdom is to never be afraid to ask and seek for support.
For several weeks now, I’ve been more adventurous with food and have been paying extra attention to eating generous portions of fresh fruits and veggies more than I possibly did last year and I must say that I see good results ‘cos my skin certainly feels clearer and my bowels happier 🙂
While foraging for my weeks’ supply, I ran into these luscious Riccio Fiorentino tomatoes in the organic section and was certainly attracted to them due to their deep red colour and their trademark ridges. I do love eating tomatoes and learnt to juice and eat them fresh like my daddy, however, I certainly balk at spending a king’s ransom on vegetables.
I thought I could just buy a kilo or two but was forced to drop them like hot potatoes when after it was weighed the cost of my 6 tomatoes was enough to buy me my entire basket of vegetables for the week. I felt a bit disappointed and settled for my regular everyday tomatoes all the while thinking of the sweet, rich flavour of those beauties.
Am I the only one who feels that the prices of these organic products are most times irritatingly exorbitant and exaggerated?
Being a parent is about the hardest job ever! I am learning invaluable lessons every day about being a mother. From one stage of your children’s lives to the next, the dynamics keep changing and your job as a mother simply never ever stops.
Our job as mothers is not about fixing our children’s lives, but primarily to teach them how to live as best as they can, how to cope, how to rise again and again, ‘cos when they become adults, life’s problems don’t go away – they simply morph into adult problems and all we have taught them as parents will serve them well.
No matter how earnestly we might wish it differently, we can’t fix everything. Sometimes, we have to let our children figure things out for themselves. Sometimes, we have to stay by the sidelines, on our knees bowed in prayer, waiting for them to come to the other side.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 