a cooking pot and twisted tales
Thoughts and Tales…A Lifestyle Blog with a Zing.
You know,
Empty dreams,
Don’t make beautiful Worlds!
The consistent actions of you and I, do!
So tell me, what do you propagate around you?
Are you engaged sowing seeds of accord or discord?
Would you just take a moment and check your circle of influence!
Plant that seed that you want to reap! It will grow into a tree of bounty!
Cease wasting time on wishful thinking!
We can be the World that we wish to see!
Shalom!
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Images: Pinterest
The winds whispered and then they howled,
The thunder clapped and began to roar,
The lightning danced, throwing fire darts in mad glee,
The Earth rumbled in the quake,
It’s groaning and shivering,
A disheartened statement from deep tectonic plates.
We thought that all would be rendered asunder…..
…..But then came The voice and whispered into the ravaged Earth,
Dripping red with blood,
Peace! Be still!
……and the Earth stood still.
May the peace that transcends common understanding,
Be your portion today and always.
PEACE!!
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
The Daily Post prompt Victory
Forget the sad times. This week, it’s all about reveling in a win.
![1447500820472[1]](https://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/14475008204721.jpg)
I had my post for today all ironed out and set to go, until I woke up this morning and saw the news and I simply lost the desire for a light and chatty post.
A sick feeling settled in my stomach as I watched in utter stupefaction, the constant replay of attacks on innocent people gathered together for a concert, gathered to cheer their teams at the stadium; coldly murdered.
It wearies one to ask why? Why this hysterical, senseless killing? It just no longer makes sense.
Just several days ago we were reeling from this and now this.
I have a very special affinity for Paris and France as a whole. It means more to me than just a lovely holiday spot.
I am bilingual ( English /French ) a language that I spent 5 years to learn and I owe loyalty to this beautiful Nation for the opportunities it presented to my life.
For several years, I worked for the Embassy of France and the European Union.
I met my husband at “Maison de France” and I always feel like a part of me has come home when I visit Paris.
They welcome and throw their doors open to all and sundry who come to pay homage to this iconic city of European heritage and they are the least discriminating people that I happen to know from my sojourns in different parts of the World.
Shame on this infamy!
Shame on humans whose behaviour are nothing less than cowardly and dishonourable!
Even as the bloodbath and carnage of innocent ones soaks into the soil of its land, France’s pride and it’s beauty can never be cut down!
Hearts bowed in pain, we grieve.
Thrumming heat in our veins we scream.
Why do you kill me?
For I have done you nothing!
I have dined with you!
I have lain with you!
I cried with you and I laughed with you!
∴
Yet you gather like locusts,
To feast on my flesh!
Have I done you any wrong?
That you kill us in throngs?
A mother weeps for a lost child!
A father bemoans his loved ones!
For the souls cut down in cold blood!
Who have done you no wrong!
∴
Let our courage not fail us!
Nor our hearts cease to beat within us!
For they shall never know peace!
For the loss of the deceased.
The torment of their souls shall never cease!
Until they seek to find peace!
Peut les âmes des défunts reposent en paix/May the souls of the departed rest in peace!
Vive La France!
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Most Nigerians I know love to have a good party or what we Lasgidi people (I was once a Lagos babe, so I am always a Lagos babe) call Owambe, where you will wiggle your waist to vibrant music till the wee hours of the morning.
The social scenery is such a robust one with all manners of lavish events going on every weekend from child dedication, to birthday party, weddings (always tops the list) anniversaries, burial ceremonies and so on.
We do not do these things in half measures and even a man whose pockets are to let by society standards, will still manage to put something together that will bring his neighours gathering.
If I were to put an owambe together for my closest one, my husband or my mother, out of all the countries that I have visited, I would still choose to have my party in Naija. We know how to rock it well!
Our parties are never small, so we generously prepare for lots of guests (even uninvited ones who will tag along).
You need a large enough space to accommodate all and sundry that will gather to celebrate with you.
Our parties are most times preceded with a church thanksgiving depending on the occasion, before everybody convenes at the party venue.
Of course, the Dee-Jay would have the music on a spin with a good mix that will bring most people to their feet and in between dancing, small chops, drinks, party favours are handed out.
We also sew elaborate or buy very glamourous outfits to suit these occasions and the jolliness is usually infectious.
We never bother with RSVP because we always make sure that Rice and Stew is Very Plenty! (Just spoke it with my pidgin accent on my mind)
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
Quick Glossary for words that you may not know:
Lasigidi – A nickname for the city of Lagos state, Nigeria.
Owambe – A Yoruba word which means ”it (party) is happening here.”
Naija: Naija is another name for Nigeria, the patriotic name for Nigerians to show their strength and smartness.
Image courtesy: Nairaland.
The Daily Post prompt RSVP
Plan the ultimate celebration for the person you’re closest to, and tell us about it. Where is it? Who’s there? What’s served? What happens?
Ever since I became a wife and mother, my views about days off and such luxury changed. Ideal days off or should I say hours off are found in snatches here and there.
It all depends on what is happening in our lives at that point in time. It would start with waking up and finding that my family are in good state of health. No major dramas except the usual hungry humans, school/work related matters, housekeeping blah, blah.
It’s a day off to go shopping quietly all by myself and return without settling a thousand squabbles of my offspring along the way.
It’s a day off in my mind when I have that me time to unwind and read my book, listen to music, dance, take a walk or savour a good meal.
However, there are also extra special days such as the one that I spent today with the kiddos at Jumeirah Beach.![1447418857488[1]](https://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/14474188574881.jpg)
It’s weekend already in this part of the World and we decided to generally go lounging and frolicking in the water and sand.
It is rewarding in so many ways to spend time like this with them.
Lounging and enjoying the fresh breeze coupled with people watching is an awesome sport too 😉
The beach presents you literally with humans of all shapes and sizes. You can watch and make up stories in your mind to your hearts delight, then again, some real time stories get to happen right before your eyes.![1447419147767[1]](https://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/14474191477671.jpg)
We caught some odds and ends on camera (like the Air Force formation in the sky), we had a greasy lunch and came home happy.![1447419287689[1]](https://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/11/14474192876891.jpg)
Day offs are really what one chooses to make of it. For me it is a state of well-being/mind and finding my peace in the midst of each days ups and downs.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In response to NaBloPoMo, Friday, November 13
Describe your ideal day off. What would you do with your time?
Haggling is an art! To live in an African society with it’s rowdy markets, you need to perfect the art of haggling over goods.
Recollections of days spent traipsing after mother or grandma at the market, trudging from pillar to post haggling over goods in order to get the best bargains makes me smile.
It was never a straight journey!
Purchases were made in-between hundreds of greeting exchanges.
These grown women would hug, chatter, ask about the entire family and their well-being, exclaim over the incessant climb in the price of goods, natter about the latest African prints fabric, discuss their next meetings and what have you, while you stood patiently with the basket waiting for that conversation to be over, only for another encounter of another auntie to occur down the line where yam tubers were sold.
The haggling dance between the seller and the buyer was one done in camaraderie.
A piece of yam tuber would be lifted, passed from the buyers one hand to the other to check how weighty, inspected to ensure that it was still fresh and when mother was satisfied with the selected yam piece, the pricing war begins with “how much?”
This could go on from one market stall to the other and the basket on your head got heavier with the items purchased.
On a good day, your assistance would be rewarded with some boiled groundnuts, fried puff-puffs or something little to nibble at.
Please do remember not to grumble when the haggling is going on otherwise, you might be rewarded with a proverb that says “a child carried on the back, does not realize that the journey is very far.”
For today’s quote, I shall leave you with these African proverbs:
“Life is like shopping in the market, when you finish your purchases, you go home.”
”One does not throw stones in the market square, because you don’t know whose head it might break.”
”Marriage is like eating groundnuts in pods! You have to crack it to see what is inside.”
I have totally enjoyed reminiscing over these proverbs for the past couple of days Oba all thanks to you.
I invite these awesome bloggers to feel free and share some quotes:
Blessed love.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
The loud bang of the gun shot startled and sent Habiba racing in the direction of the sound, her Ferragamo slippers clattered as she rushed along.
In disbelief, her bulging eyes stared at Hamid’s body scattered at an odd angle. His gold plated hand gun on the floor beside his slackened hand.
Dead! Hamid died from a single well aimed shot to the temple; blowing parts of his crown to pieces.
In horror she screamed endlessly. The catastrophe before her eyes horrified her senses.
The ruckus alerted the maid’s and the children; who all came rushing to the scene.
Why? Why? Habiba sobbed and mumbled incoherently in Arabic.
She had noticed his withdrawn and restless attitude for days on end but his heated discussions over the telephone had not appeared any different from other days when he was brokering a deal.
She had paid no mind to it at all. Her days were consumed with the usual shopping sprees, yacht meet ups with friends, an occasional private party trip to the casinos in Monaco and the high-life of a pampered wife of a stupendously wealthy industrial giant.
“No! Y’Allah!” she yelled at the Philippina nanny’s. ”Take them away from here.”
She didn’t want them to see the mind numbing horrifying sight. It would scar their psyche for the rest of their lives.
The note simply said: “I am sorry. It’s all gone. I lost it all.”
She frantically called her brother Majid on her gem-studded Vertu phone; he would know what to do.
Nothing made any sense to her befuddled mind.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
This story is total fiction conjured from an article in The National: online United Arab Emirates news about a major jewellery line owner who has been jailed for fraud.
The Daily Post prompt Ripped from the headlines.
Head to your favorite online news source. Pick an article with a headline that grabs you. Now, write a short story based on the article.
Let’s be honest with one another, if the truth be told, wouldn’t you want to have that magical Jeeves/Personal Assistant who will tackle those dreaded and impossible to delegate tasks that you are faced with?
Oh! I so would love me some Jeeves. Genie Jeeves would take care of my business in an efficient manner such as:
Exercising for me, and passing all the nicely contoured muscles to my body. He sweats it out while I shape up nicely and of course I would recline on a plush chaise-lounge like a rich Nabob eating whatever I liked without the repercussions of the weighing scale. How awesome would that be 🙂
My dear genie Jeeves, would write those bestseller stories and books running around in my head to a perfect T and as quickly as possible too, so that he can start selling and make me wads of money.
Genie Jeeves would read my tons of mail, weed out the unintelligent ones and pass the intelligent information that I need to know into my head.
All those boxes of knick-knacks that found their way into the house would be nicely sorted out, labeled, given away or whatever. Jeeves will take care of that mess.
Running all those distracting little errands that can cut into my precious “knowing me time’‘ would be up Jeeves alley.
…..Earth to Jacqueline, now stop the daydreaming and remember that wishes are not horses, so no ride for this poor beggar.
Let me keep staring out of the window as often as possible, hopefully, I just might catch a shooting star and make my wishes; you never know these things 😉
So, tell me, do you have any chores that you need sorted out?
I might just be in the mood to lend you my Jeeves when he arrives.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
In response to NaBloPoMo – Thursday, November 12
If you had a personal assistant who would do your most dreaded tasks, which items from your to-do list would you assign out?
Learning to cook started at a young age for me; not that I remember being asked 😉 it was just the way things were. 
From assisting mother in the kitchen in preparation of all sorts, to going over during the holidays to help grandma prepare her classic agidi jollof/wrapped corn meal and oil bean flakes which we would also help her sell at the local market; commercial trading was also learnt in the bargain.
Naturally, as a young child and a bookworm, often, I would get distracted or sneak into the restroom to read a quick page of my fave of the moment and the quick page turned into several; meanwhile my absorbed mind has forgotten that I was meant to be watching the pot of beans and ensure that it didn’t burn.
Needless to say, it was usually the aroma of burnt offering that alerted my nostrils to the disaster on fire and mothers voice raised to power two exclaiming away “Hia! this child will not kill me!”
The burnt level of the beans knew many degrees and the instruction to wash that burnt pot until it was gleaming enough to show the reflection of your teeth was never a small task. It kept you on the straight and narrow corner of the kitchen for some good days 🙂
Yet mothers patience never gave up on us. She continued teaching and we continued attempting to kill her, but thankfully never succeeded and turned out to be responsible adults today.
Let me leave you with this African proverb:
“When you overlook the small clay pot, it will boil over and put off the firewood.”
This can be translated in so many ways, but a quick example is: when you overlook a small bad habit, it becomes a character trait.
Once again Oba thank you for extending this invite. I am enjoying it.
To participate in the 3 quote challenge, I would like to invite:
Good day and blessings.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
“No I don’t think it is a jilted lover!”
“I don’t have any lover!” Sally declared with an embarrassed look flooding her cheeks.
Sheesh! I came here to make a report, not to have an autopsy of my celibacy, she thinks.
“No it’s not a mad, jealous wife out to scare the Bejesus out of me.” “I just said that I don’t have a lover.” She reiterated.
“Family? They are hundreds of miles away.”
“I doubt if my brother will leave his wife and kids and drive up hundreds of miles everyday to leave flowers at my door and disappear.”
“My mum doesn’t get around that much due to her hip problem.” She wasn’t even sure that the officer was paying attention.
After the thousand and one questions and answers the officer said:
“Well Ma’am, we don’t have enough information to go out on.”
He tried to keep a straight face and not show his boredom. There were serious attacks all over the city and the little Miss here complains about an over zealous admirer sending her too many flowers and expecting a patrol to go out on a limb to catch the flower stalker and to hold her hands.
“Just keep your eyes open and your doors safely locked, he advised.” His tone bearing a dismissal note.
Irritated at the condescending attitude of the police officer, Sally left and decided to take some precautions.
She purchased a can of mace, a bowl, some milk, tuna and a can of soup for dinner.
Her new stray cat would require a bowl.
Deep in thought she made her way home.
There he was yet again, the neighbour across the street. In his little shorts, bare chest and the beach towel slung around his neck, puffing away on the patio.
She pointedly kept a straight face and tried to ignore his low whistle of admiration.
Does he do something else with his life? She pondered to herself.
Up the apartments quiet flight of stairs and as sure as gold, there it was. Yet another bouquet, but no longer did the message sound like the previous ones.
This time around it’s cut out alphabets read:
Now I have got you! Now am gonna eat you!
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
The link for the first part of this post is here
The Daily Post prompt An odd trio.
Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel.
a cooking pot and twisted tales 