A wordsmith with a vivid imagination, an eager mind and a burning desire to carve out tales. As I journey with my muse to that land of all possibilities and self discovery, I hope my personal evolution will serve as a beacon of inspiration for anyone who chooses to stop by.
There I was thinking I had a holiday from Writing 201 this weekend, alas! Mr Ben Huberman says it ain’t so.
I guess Ann Taylor’s poem stuck in my mind because it was one of those poems that I learnt and recited as a child and coincidentally, as my young son was having a bit of allergic sniffles this weekend and being a bit irritable, the poem came back to me, since I sought ways to make him comfortable and ease his distress.
The line that stuck in my head is: ”When pain and sickness made me cry, who gazed upon my heavy eye?”
It is practically a self-explanatory poem. Enjoy remembering it with me. Kind regards
My Mother – Poem by Ann Taylor
Who sat and watched my infant head
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
My Mother.
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gazed upon my heavy eye,
And wept for fear that I should die?
My Mother.
Who taught my infant lips to pray
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
My Mother.
And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
My Mother?
Ah, no! the thought I cannot bear,
And if God please my life to spare
I hope I shall reward they care,
My Mother.
When thou art feeble, old and grey,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
My Mother.
In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry potluck for the weekend.
The Laurels are multiplying by the day and it is really time that I attend to them.
My sincere apologies to my dear good blogging neighbours who have nominated me for these 15 awards for my delay in responding.
I appreciate each of you individually and collectively as a community of encouraging, motivating, inspiring, fun loving and wise people.
I may not have met any of you in the flesh, but to a large extent, your words do speak for who you are and I would like to refer to y’all as those that I call ”FINE GENTRY.”
Due to the fact that it would be inundating to take these nominations one by one and my desire not to drive my friends batty with spurious award posts, I will have to break so many rules and merge these laurels of mine into one fine post.
Please stay seated whilst I give my speech 😉
First and foremost, I would like to thank the following awesome bloggers who nominated me for:
Blogger Recognition Award
For this nomination, I thank the following bloggers enlisted below:
You cannot nominate yourself or the person who has nominated you.
Write a post to show your award.
Give a brief story of how your blog started.
Give a piece of advice or two to new bloggers.
Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
Attach the award to the post (right click and save, then upload).
Comment on each blog and let them know you have nominated them.
Provide a link to the award post you created.
Questions:
A brief about my blog.
Answer: I started my blog precisely on the 6th of May, 2015. My synopsis for starting this blog are: to meet other people who can enrich my mind through their stories and posts. An avenue to share my stories and thoughts and also as a medium of honing my writing skills, whilst developing the discipline of writing everyday.
A piece of advise to new bloggers.
Answer: My advise to new bloggers (I am still one by the way) is to write from within; from their hearts and not an attempt to be a copy of another blogger. That is unsustainable and would probably end up being disappointing. Keep your eyes away from the statistics at the onset. It is worse than watching paint dry. Write your post, then go out and engage with other bloggers. Visit other blogs and generally mingle. Attend as many blogging courses as time permits you. Don’t be a stranger!
Five facts about myself:
Answer:
I speak French and I love children’s coloured books (yes I said it! I think I am still a child at heart.
This may not make sense, but I sincerely believe that all things work together for my own good – even the bad experiences, even when I don’t see the sense in them. I know that God knows!
I am not yet a published author, but hope to be one in the near future.
I love to dance and yes, I am probably one of those that you have to peel off the dance floor of a party. As long as the DJ is playing the right tunes, I am hopping to it 😉
I used to model as a teenager and in my early twenties and sometimes, I wonder how different or the same my life would have been if I had continued modelling.
What do you like most about the present situation?
Answer: The fact that I am writing consistently these days. That I am at peace with myself.
Which is your best memory?
Answer: I hardly ever think of things as the best, because I always feel that something better might turn around the corner, but I think so far, my childhood days are my best memories.
Do you feel you are at peace with yourself?
Answer: I think I answered in the first question before getting here. Yes indeed, I am at peace with myself.
Who is your guide, guru or counselor?
Answer: I have no human that fills that category. My Bible serves as my spiritual guide. My mother and husband serve as my human counselors and then I read a ton of books written by renowned motivators and counselors.
What makes you feel very good?
Answer: I try not to base my feeling good on the conditions of anything because life as we know it can get very sporadic, but I feel good when I set out to achieve something and succeed in doing so, even if they are menial, daily tasks.
Which quality or habit in your life do you like the most about yourself?
Answer: For quality I would say my empathetic and resilient spirit and for habit, I think my reading habits.
Who are your source of inspiration?
Answer: The word of God and my mother again. This is because she is one of the most generous humans I have ever met. Her faith in God always appears as solid as a rock in my eyes (maybe, she might have her doubts, but she never voices them). I don’t know if it means that I am not ambitious enough, but other people’s wealth does not really inspire me. What inspires me is how much they have positively impacted the lives of those around them.
What is the role of gratitude in your life?
Answer: In everything, I always try to give thanks. Gratitude turns what we have into enough and more. A grateful heart knows a lot of happiness.
Has blogging enriched your life? How?
Answer: Yes, in so many ways it has enriched my life. My blogging path has crossed those of other people who I may never have been opportune to meet. It serves as a personal source of accountability because it has kept my mind focused on writing.
What is your greatest talent?
Answer: I am still on a journey of self discovery and evolution. Maybe, I may still chance on a box of tricks hidden somewhere.
Without any obligations because I appreciate how long it takes to respond to these nominations, my Nominees, in no particular order are:
Most challenges that surface in our lives actually have the power to bring us to our knees, when we give in to the fear that we cannot withstand it!
We tend to panic when we experience unanticipated turbulence in our lives, forgetting all the tenets that we know and we allow fear to throw us off balance!
It is always a battle field of the mind!
What I have learnt and know for sure, is that tremors will always come; that is a fact of life!
HOWEVER, you must ALWAYS adjust your stance and find a new center of gravity!
These could mean new attitude, new friends, new job, new home, new relationship, new everything!
CONCENTRATE on staying in the present and living through the turbulence, moment by moment!
It is the attempt to lump it all together that makes it more overwhelming!
Make diligent attempts to step up to higher grounds in the moment and REMEMBER to breathe easy as you forge on to the next moment.
Ego Ọne? Ikem asks. Picking up and dropping several T shirts from the pile of bend-down select clothes heaped on a tarpaulin on the market floor.
Hah! I don tell you say na N200 only! Replied the man with the bell.
Second-hand aka bend-down-select cloth sales
Bros, abeg!I wan buy 2 or even 3 sef, if you fit commot something. Ikem haggles and they eventually settle for N120 each and he happily pays for the three that he chose, clutching his black nylon of new apparels with a bounce in his steps, he leaves for Mama Nwamaka’s canteen.
A plate ofhot ‘Garri and Onugbu soup’ with some ‘Show Boy’ and a bottle of ‘small stout’ is just the thing to set his World right today; he has more jingle in his pockets from a few days of work than all the previous weeks put together.
Preceding market days have been grueling but more rewarding. It seems the approach of Christmas has triggered off a flurry of more business and lots of off-loading of bags of garri and gallons of palm-oil has enriched him more than carrying baskets for housewives and their wares.
Some of these women came for their weekly shopping armed with scorpion stingers on their lips and taking out the grouch from their homes on unsuspecting recipients.
The last one had nagged and haggled that he was charging too much, that he was almost tempted to ask her to carry the things herself.
“Is it not just from here to the bus-stop, or are we going to ‘Ibagwa’?” She harassed.
Bitter leaf soup and garri
”Carry that thing well o.” ”Hah all this shaking, my oil will pour o!” She went on and on.
”You are going too fast!” “I cannot keep up with you, she argued!” Whilst stopping to greet every single market woman that crossed her path and Ikem stood with her weighted load on his head.
Such women were very trying, but he needed all the money he could make.
He wants to buy several new items and to replace his worn out rubber slippers. Occupying his mind with happier thoughts of the jeans and canvas that he will purchase soon, he tunes out the shrewish woman’s voice.
A belly full of good food and a glass of palmy later- Mama Amaka had fresh supply and he couldn’t resist the intoxicating aroma of fresh palm-wine. It is not every day that you could get an authentic bottle that is not watered down. He hurries back to hustle for more customers.
Show boy aka Kpomo/Kanda
A few more bags of rice and basket carrying for market late-comers, it is time to go home.
It appears like a throng or water-fall of humans. Everyone rushing to get done and go home.
Ikem is happy with the days events and as he jostles along with the crowd, an unexpected shove from the back has him turning around to lambaste the pusher, only for the ensuing shouting chant of ‘Ole! Thief o!Onye Oshi!’ rings out in the crowd.
The pusher happens to be a wily young pick-pocket who was trying to make away with a woman’s purse. Out of reflex Ikem hot-foots after the escaping thief along with a several young men.
The crowd impedes the pick-pockets movements and he is nabbed a few yards away and beaten to an inch of his life.
It takes the pleading voices of some concerned women to save him from being pulped to death.
Jungle Justice! Quick to be meted out when the culprit is caught; especially among the poor culprits.
Ikem ponders on this issue as he makes his way home. Wondering why a young man would choose to bargain with his life over a paltry sum of Naira. The culprits face is one of those idling chaps that he sees around the market.
To be continued.. You can read the first part by clicking the link in red ink above!
Quick Glossary for words that you may not know:
Ego Ọne – How much is this?
Hah! I don tell you say na N200 only! – Ah! but I told you it is only 200 Naira (note that it is expected to haggle over price in the market)
Bros, abeg!I wan buy 2 or even 3 sef, if you fit commot something – My brother please! I want to buy 2 or even 3, only if you can reduce the price.
Bend-down-select: A heap of mixed used clothing where customers literally bend down to scrounge through the pile and select an item they want to buy.
Mama Nwamaka – Nwamaka’s mother. Nwamaka is a native Igbo name that means, ”the child is beautiful, the child is good” There are derivatives such as Amaka.
Garri- A popular West African meal made from Cassava tubers.
Onugbu soup – A type of soup which is peculiar to the Ibo’s. It is made from bitter-leaf vegetable and a thickener of coco-yams.
Show Boy also known as Kpomo or Kanda – These are processed cow hide eaten as meat. It is regarded as a delicacy.
Small stout also known as Odeku – This is a dark beer made from roasted malt or roasted barley, hops, water and yeast.
Ibagwa – Ibagwa is a community located North of the great University of Nigeria, Nsukka.
‘Ole! Thief o!Onye Oshi!’ – The three words mean the same thing: Ole is Yoruba for thief, and Onye Oshi is Igbo for thief. It is not uncommon to mix English with broken/pidgin language and another tribes language.
Palm-Oil – a reddish – yellow butter-like oil which is derived from the fruit of the oil palm. It is used as edible cooking fat and also for making soaps, candles and cream.
Palmy – a shortened name for Palm-Wine, which is an alcoholic drink made from fermented palm sap. It is used in major traditional occasions in Igbo land such as Traditional titling occasions, Traditional weddings, burials, child naming ceremony and general entertainment.
A palm wine tapper and a palm tree
Fresh bottles of Palm wine
The posts that I would like to share because they spoke to me:
When great trees fall: This poem from Maya Angelou featured by JoHanna Massey’s blog spoke loudly to me. Almost felt as is Maya was talking about her demise ”in my mind” because she is indeed a great tree. This is my first time of reading it.
Evening Chuckle: Nutsrok does know how to bring the mirth out of me. She offers rib-cracking laughter each time 🙂
Wordless – Wednesday: I love food. Lucid Gypsy’s picture was pure temptation for me 😉
Scour the news for an entirely uninteresting story. Consider how it connects to your life. Write about that.
With the amount of distressing news that comes on once you turn on the Television, I limit my time spent on TV to the barest minimum each day and on some days, not at all!
Catching the headline news is done when my day is half gone, that way I keep sane and will not start my day with so much disheartening, depressive news.
I equally refuse to listen to news before going to bed. It is bad for one’s health!
However, with respect to this prompt, I turned on the TV and caught the tail end part of possible strategy for combating ISIS.
The question posed was that with all the human atrocities that they commit, how come they maintain a position of financial strength by selling oil illegally and purchasing ammunition from undisclosed sources?
What went through my mind as I listened was:
Who are these Clandestine ISIS customers?
Who are their shameless ammunition suppliers?
How come the World powers that be, lack the intelligence to decipher who these entities are?
Is it that the World powers know and yet they choose to play Possum or Ostrich?
I know that without being told that there are those who will forever capitalize on the sorry state of affairs that exists in the World to fatten their pockets through the loopholes of terrorism, but to what ends?
How much is it really worth trading on people’s lives ?
I think that these are some of the most miserable greedy humans on Earth! Those who trade on human lives to line their pockets!
All the wealth acquired can never buy a true moment of peace!
We can only occupy a room at a time , drive a car at a time, eat only so much and at the end of it all, we have a small 6-foot space in Mother Earth where we go from dust to dust and with NOTHING AT ALL! !
Sorry to sound so dour 😔!
That is what the news does to me at times.
Well, let me turn off the TV right now and look forward to brighter thing’s since I can’t solve all the World’s problems!
Oh! There was an old map that the lady loved;
We used to be together, You and I;
Clutched every step of the way;
From East to West
From North to South
You and I; Map
Were inseparable!
Carefully plotted and stamped with anticipated goals;
Decorated with achievements and all the golden laurels;
At every mile and every inch of the way;
Map boasted of selfish individuality;
And screamed, Me, Me, Me!
The Map and Lady;
Grew very selfish in ambitions;
In a hasty bid to cover every milestone;
Lady forgot to tie her laces;
A trip, a fall and over the brimstone!
Scraped knees and a bleeding thumb;
Map got torn and was no longer perfect;
Lady sat in the puddle;
Wondering at the puzzle;
Then helping hand came to lift lady out of the muddle!
Bruised but not beaten;
Battered but not finished;
Lady said goodbye to old map;
Obtained a nicer map;
And sets-off on a happier journey!
Write about evil: how you understand it (or don’t), what you think it means, or a way it’s manifested, either in the world at large or in your life.
Evil lies at every door!
Sneaky and eager to slip in,
When the door is left unlocked,
Evil slips in unwatched!
In each of us exists a Jekyll and Hyde,
Always a tussle between Good and Bad,
Who wins is left for you to say,
Because, indeed, evil lies at the door!
She doesn’t look like the wicked witch from East-wick,
Neither does she resemble the witch from Far East,
But resides in all those, with malevolent eyes,
Indeed, evil lies at the door!
She needs not have a hooked, pimply nose,
Nor cast spells over,
Pots of mumbo-jumbo,
A minutes delay, the spell is done,
Indeed, evil slips in through the door!
S/he comes well packaged in lovely gift wraps,
S/he comes sensuous, sleek with soft touch,
Glossy and sweet, like everything nice,
A little taste and then its doom,
Indeed, evil lies at the door!
S/he needs no crooked black hat,
Nor a black cat that spits with squinted eyes,
She needs no broom,
To get her vroom,
Yes indeed, evil lies at the door!
At the door of an unrepentant heart,
With no sense of remorse!
At the door of wicked pleasure,
From others pain and misery!
At the door of abuse, loneliness, violence and more,
Yes indeed, evil lies at the door!
Dare we take a peek? I shudder;
I shudder, should we dare seek to see;
Beneath our pantomime parades;
What turbulence lies under the facades;
Can the glare of the twisted mess found beneath;
Can the parts all broken, cracked, jumbled, mangled and messed up beyond measure;
Ever fit, not to cause so much displeasure?
Facades that shimmers and glimmers like timeless diamonds;
Yet within their confined cupboards they fight and grapple with their demons;
Painful warts underneath, score my soul like those of a soiled dove;
dirty, filthy, unbecoming, unwholesome tiny cracks everywhere;
The freckles of imperfection marks me brutally;
I am covered in sinful spots and dots;
A sore sight to the sinless eyes;
But who are these sinless eyes? Where are they be to be found? I ask;
Shall we dare to take a peek to see;
There are no sinless between you and I;
All broken bits of imperfections we are;
But yet he says;
Come! I beseech you;
Come to me with all your freckles and all your warts!
Come to me with all your spots and all your dots!
Disgraced, Broken, Discarded, Cracked, Twisted, Warped,Mangled,
Hopeless, Desperate, Ashamed, Naked;
However spotty it might be!
Come!
For my perfection makes your imperfection whole!
Come!
For I came to set the captives free!
backwards walking
a cooking pot and twisted tales 