Famished and angry…just a little rant

July 10, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha6 Comments

You put up a mouth-watering signage,

With delectable looking dishes on display,

Advertising the best Seafood,

In the entire seven continents,

You cared not to up another one,

To warn us about your sloppy service,

Or to inform us,

That we would have to sit for ages, 😦

Nibbling on our nails as appetizers,

Whilst waiting for your ever elusive menu,

And after waiting for ages,

A mere sliver of questionable sea fare,

Of dodgy this and that,

Barely sufficient,

And hardly palatable.

But haste you made,

No waste in collecting your wage.

Just so you know,

In the time I sat on your mat,

Like a fat cat,

I could have caught a Fat Trout,

At a cheaper route.

Creative Writing · Social critic

The dance of deceit…

July 6, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha13 Comments

The pulse of the beat emanating from the loudspeakers made even the most gauche and stiff person nod their heads, sway in their seats or tap their feet to the rhythm of music. That was the power of a medley of the latest Naija tunes, which by the way is a staple to guarantee a bubbly party.

The lavish get together at the opulent Oriental hotel was very well attended and the upwardly mobile guests were all dressed to the nines for the occasion. The gentlemen looked dapper in their native outfits and the ladies were a burst of brightness and elegance.

Most of the ladies were either outfitted in slinky dresses that showed off ample bosoms and ankles or were gorgeously bedecked in colorful tailored to fit Lace or Ankara attires, accessorized with all the necessary artillery, from expensive jewelery, to Manolo Blahnik shoes, bling clutches, bank-breaking hair weaves or artfully tied geles/head-ties, which perched on their proud crowns. Their faces were equally perfect canvases of fine artistry and their thick false eyelashes stood inches away from their powder layered skin.

It was a joyful occasion. It was the celebration and dedication of a child born after 14 years of anticipated waiting. A classy and sublime Nigerian party. Champagne and assorted drinks flowed freely without restrictions. Finger licking foods of diverse menu was in surplus rations and the Master of ceremony occasionally interjected the music with a rib-cracking joke or a little side talk to sweeten the atmosphere.

Yet every moment that passed was like ages spent in a hot seat for Coco. Her intestines were contorted in nerves of pins and needles and she could barely wait for the party to be over so that she would escape to the confines of her home.

“Who invited him here”? She muttered under her breath, sensing some serious mischief on the way, but she was unable to give him his matching orders without drawing unnecessary attention to both of them. It would take one discerning eye to tell. Just one eagle-eyed gossip, who spends more time with her/his nose stuck in other peoples affair. That was all that is required for her life to become a mess.

Another oohing and aahing admiration from a guest drew her attention back to the bundle of joy cradled in her arms. She carelessly caressed the little one’s soft, downy hair, as she listened to yet another analysis of who the baby looked like: whether he looked like her Coco or like Ben.

“My sister, I am happy for you o”, intoned Bisi. “Indeed, God is very faithful o”. “Ah! I was just telling my sister Lola in London, about your testimony o”. “Telling her to have courage and be patient, that he will surely answer in his time o”. “Hmm, your baby is so cute o”. “He is almost as fine as a girl o”. “See all the hair, see the fairness”.

“Your belle is very good o”. “See this fine pikin wey you just born as he yellow, well well, this one no resemble you at all o”. “Maybe na your husband people him resemble”, she carried on her monologue, whilst Coco responded in grunts of appreciation at the same time trying to keep an eye out for the uninvited guest. A good party with lots of liberal drinks had a way of bringing out the pidgin in you.

Soon enough, Simbi glided over to where she sat with the uninvited guest in tow.

“Guess who is in town”? she chirped in her syrupy falsetto. “I ran into him, and we got talking and I told him about your good fortune, I couldn’t help but invite him to come along with me, since I had no one to come with”. She and her husband parted ways, several years ago.

Coco raised her eyes, muttered a cold welcome through clogged throat as she fought an inner battle to keep her face as bland as possible, even though her heart beats were so loud that she thought it could be heard by anyone. Staring into his face catapulted her back to thirteen months and twelve days ago, when she deliberately placed herself in a compromising situation.

She had grown bone weary of being poked and prodded by one gynecologist or the other, subjecting herself to countless fertility tests. Then again, anything to have a baby was worth the while.

She had grown deeply tired of being looked on as useless and her desperation to cradle her own child reached its apogee, when she overheard her sister-in-law insidiously telling her husband that their new home was beautiful, but it was a shame that there were no patters of feet to decorate and warm the house.

She knew that it was a question of time before she would be faced with the challenge of a new wife for Ben, or if she was lucky, he would choose to be discreet and have the children outside with a more fruitful lady.

Every month that her menstrual cycle turned up was like an extra nail on her cross, and a heavy weight on her mind.

Her yearning had left a cavern in her soul. She had cried and sought forgiveness from God for any sin that might be an obstacle in receiving the fruit of the womb. She had danced from one prayer hall to the other. From one night vigil to the other. From one candle lit Pastor to the other, all to no avail.

She had proposed IVF, but Ben found a thousand reasons not to be keen on it.

Adoption was not such a common phenomenon in Nigeria, besides, she needed her husband to buy into such an idea.

The doctors had said that nothing was wrong with her, yet she secretly believed she was at fault. She felt that God was punishing her for all the abortions that she had committed in her youth.

She couldn’t scream from the rooftops or confide in Ben that she was capable of conceiving, based on her numerous pregnancies in the past when she was still single. That would be like a keg of gun powder for a canon!

His silent accusation of ruining her womb will join the turmoil that she was experiencing, thus, her guilt sentenced her to silence.

“Ore, what did the doctor say?” Simbi inquired as they strolled through Balogun market in search of the perfect aso ebi for Stella’s mothers burial.

She and Simbi came a long way from their school days as room mates at University of Ife. They had weathered a whole lot together.

“The same old story o, my sister”. “I have flushed my tubes over and over again, that they must resemble express ways by now”, Coco said wryly.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what of Ben”? Simbi inquired. Daring to venture into that aspect which was sacred and not open for discussion.

“Ben ke”? Coco asked

“Yes now”? “After all it is the two of you that are in this matter”.

“His doctor said nothing is wrong with him o”, Coco reported.

“His doctor”? “Did you two see him together”? Simbi queried, like a dog chewing on a bone.

Coco looked at her friend sharply. “Just what are you saying exactly Simbi”?

“Hmm! Ore, don’t be annoyed o”. “But has he really checked to see that he is okay”? “My dear sister, I remember some things o”. “We both know that you can conceive”. “I am just saying that you shouldn’t leave these things to chance anymore”. “We are getting old o”. “After forty o, this conception matter gets more difficult”. “This is the time to act”.

“So what is your suggestion?” Coco inquired. “You are speaking in parables”.

“I think you should get him to check again”. “I don’t want you to say tomorrow that I am the devil o, but if it is me, I will try elsewhere, just to see o, Simbi concluded in her matter of fact approach of speaking.

Those little subtle seeds of suggestion took root and festered in Coco’s mind for several moons to pass. She paid serious attention to Ben’s activities and carried out her own private clinical investigations afterwards. It was a shock to find out that he had low sperm count and had probably known that, all these years, but she couldn’t confront him. She could not dare give a voice to her questions. She knew it would bring serious discord which might cost her, her marriage. And since she wanted to stay married, she kept quiet.

In Africa a man can never be impotent. Ha! How can that be? It is always the woman’s fault for failing to be fruitful and to multiply children in triplicates or more copies.

But her vengeful heart knew no peace and other ideas took roots. She reconnected with the uninvited guest on social media and bid her time. He had succeeded in impregnating her in the past, during school days; though he had never been privy to that knowledge. They were just unprepared students. The seduction was timely and complete. Two months later it was a slam dunk. She was pregnant.

Ben had been ecstatic at the news of the forth-coming baby. They went on a shopping spree in London. The baby would have the best that money could buy.

All seemed well and blissful, until Simbi started making some sly and irksome comments.

She no longer felt at ease with her good friend, finding good excuses to keep her at an arms length.

Watching as her friend got down low to the music with him, she contemplated her next possible steps even as she joined her husband on the dance floor for the showers of monetary blessings.

They continued their dance of deceit, but at what cost? Who knows?

For some readers who might require the meanings of some of the words for better clarity and understanding, kindly find below:

Also note that we stretch our syllables when we speak and almost always end our sentences with a long drawn ooh when gisting/discussing back home.

Glossary:

Ankara: African prints/fabrics

Aso ebi (pronounced Asho eybee) These refers to Nigerian outfits made from matching fabric to be worn by a group of people to a party, wedding, burial or any other social gathering.

Belle: (pronounced beh-leh) stomach/belly

Gele: traditional Nigerian head wrap made of different textures.

Naija: an acronym or slang as another name for Nigeria, a patriotic name for Nigerians to show union, emotions, strength etc

Ore mi: (pronounced Awe-reh mee) My friend

Pidgin: grammatically simplified form of English

Pikin: (pronounced pee-keen) child

wey you just born: that you delivered

Yellow: refers to very light/fair complexion.

Inspiration - Motivation · Social critic · Uncategorized

Pornography… 10 reasons why you should stop the views.

July 2, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha19 Comments

Simple defined: “pornography is the depiction of sexual behavior that is intended to arouse sexual excitement in its audience” – The legal dictionary.

What set me down this path of thinking you might care to ask? Well, let me tell you a little bit why. I sat in the library several days ago, trying to wrap my mind around a book that I am putting together. I had escaped the confines of my home, trading it for a little slice of time at the public library so that I could escape having my children come barging in now and again, to ask for this or that and derailing my train of thought.

Okay. So I settle down with my paraphernalia of notes and different colored pens and laptop and lunch and all, trying to dig deep in my memory bank to fish out those words that I search for. Not far gone in my quest, the infernal chit-chat behind my back commences. I ignored it a little bit, but the consistent drip, drip of voices in the library behind my back, drew my curious mind to identify the culprits. I squelched every inclination to give them a good scold on etiquette.

Three young heads are planted close to each other, gasping and awing over the contents of a smart phone. My curiosity was piqued to no ends – I am a people watcher (if any hobby can have that title) so, I rose from my chair and I craned my neck. Voila! They were actively engaged in a watching a torrid sexual session of group sex on their Iphone, in the public library. If I could blush, I am sure my face would have taken the color of beetroot.

The best thing to do: I politely took my things and moved myself, a little reluctantly to another position (that seat, which I had appropriated gave me a vantage point to observe everything going on in that vicinity and I still struggled to let go of the desire to give that scold 🙂

Now my train of thought had digressed from creating the perfect murder scene, to wondering about the scene that I just witnessed and thinking of a storyline in that aspect.

I doubt if Porn makes a polite dinner conversation? It is hard to picture one’s dad slicing through that steak, your ma picking her peas and your maiden aunt Virginia sipping on her Earl Grey tea whilst you engage in recounting lurid details of a BDSM scene, they would probably choke to death.

Yet, this topic that does not make a rousing discourse at the dinner table, is a thriving billion dollar industry which keeps growing and is virtually available at the slightest click of the fingers. What a waste of good funds!

I may not be an expert in analyzing sexual matters, but at my age, I do know a thing or two I can assure you.

I think that irrespective of religious inclinations or belief, pornography affects its viewers negatively for so many reasons. I don’t want to sound like a righteous and sanctimonious preacher, so, I will keep it simple, enunciate just a few reasons and encourage you to reason with me.

1. It rewires the brain and it’s short term gratification can lead to long term negative effects through the Coolidge effect of automatic response to continuous craving for more and more new excitement. The trappings of cyber-sex gives an opportunity to view millions of boobs and all which can span several life times in a few minutes and after years of consumption, the same material ceases to excite the viewer, thus the compulsion to delve deeper and explore newer grounds.

2. It then becomes an addiction. The repetition of this specific behavior leads to the release of the feel good hormone Dopamine, thus the continuous craving for repeats which is akin to what addicts of other substances experience.

3. It can actively damage or erode family relationships due to the unrealistic expectations from your relationships and in some cases, real women/men cease to arouse your interest as much as those that you see on the internet.

4. It causes decrease in sexual libido (testosterone) and erectile dysfunction, which will inevitably lead to depression, low energy level and lack of satisfaction.

5. Its leads to the development of thoughts and fetishes that would not have been encountered without porn.

6. This act reaches in and destroys the hearts, minds and bodies of its participants.

7. Waste of so much valuable time and funds surfing the net for an activity that eventually leaves the viewer depleted and possibly indebted through purchases made online for viewing rights to these sites.

8. It could even lead to loss of livelihood and reputation.

9. It promotes destructive practices and sexual perversions out there such as child porn, bestiality, necrophilia, rape and sadism and this in turn leads to increase of sexual crimes, human trafficking etc.

10. By viewing, the viewer supports this industry and facilitates its growth. The viewer also wittingly and unwittingly contributes to the sexual exploitation of whoever or whatever object he/she views.

We can no longer shy away from the realities of today by hiding our heads in the sand like Ostriches and hoping these things will go away.

We owe it to our young ones to educate them of the dangers that lurks in such habitual practice and hope that eventually, they will make the right choices.

Indeed, it is a danger in itself to allow them to flounder in their need to acquire information.

That’s it folks. I have said my piece and if I must say so, my digression from my initial assignment for my book, gave me quite an education. Maybe, as time goes on, we can explore ways that this habit can be broken.

Feel free to re-blog and share, you might be saving a soul 😉

Creative Writing · Musings · Social critic

Unlikely thief…

June 20, 2015 jacquelineobyikochaLeave a comment

It was still a slow day in “The Hive” as it is called. Customers strolled in; in ones and twos, some lingered and some did not. She walked in pushing a baby in a stroller. Her dressing was quite interesting. She wore a pair of bright yellow gold and brown studded boots, soft flannel blue loose pants, a brown woolly top coat which hung around her midriff and a belt in the same color as her boots around her waist. The rest of her white flabby tummy was exposed. Her hair was an interesting mix of brown and orange strands.

The square aquamarine glasses which were perched on her nose were all spangled up with sparkle dusts of different shades. Her ear-rings, shoulder drop length of twisted metals with little round festive looking balls at the ends, swung and tinkled as she walked by.

Her wrists were encircled in individual bands of various designs and multicolor, each side had at least five bands with a big pink cocktail ring on her middle finger. She was a burst of colorful sight for sore eyes. She was a stamp of eccentric individuality.

The baby looked very healthy and cherubic, her short sparse brown hair capping her round plump face and ruddy cheeks.

The little one was dressed up in a short baby top and pink sweater with her little rotund stomach sticking out. Her baby bottoms were adorned with a white and purple animal print diapers and her tiny feet had nothing on them. They simply kicked the air without restraints.

Baby was just gorgeous with her folds of plump pink flesh and her dribbling mouth which had a thumb stuck in it all the while.

Ms. Bright Colors (lets call her that), took a position in The Hive and surreptitiously did a quick scan of the occupants. There were two young black men- a dread-locked chap and a nondescript one; they both had big headphones over their heads and covering their ears, with faint vibrations of the music they listened to seeping through the muzzled earpiece; their heads were bent over their laptops. A middle aged white lady sat in the corner, she was working on her needlework craft of lovely handmade and embroidered cover cloth, and a young Caucasian lady who seemed to be deeply engrossed in the book she was reading.

She gathered a couple of publications and flipped through them absentmindedly. She observed how intense the attention of the two black men and the young lady were. She observed that the handicraft lady went for bathroom call ever so often. She observed that nobody paid much mind to the scanty people seated in that corner, then she waited.

Now and again, her babbling baby fretted a little bit and she fed her from an uncapped bottle labeled cupcake. It cast the impression of a homely, caring mama, all at the same time.

Once again, the need for the lavatory arose and Mrs Handicraft shuffled off. As soon as she left, Ms. Bright Colors calmly gathered her things and efficiently swooped on the Mrs. Handicrafts bags and belongings; her precision like that of a hawk that was marking its prey. With her stolen booty nicely ensconced in the stroller beside the baby, she strolled out unnoticed, back into the San Antonio high street, into the crowd of hurrying shapes.

Mrs Handicraft came back to her seat and was aghast to find her belongings gone. She looked under the table, on the counter top by the corner and in every possible nook and cranny, her face taking different shades and splotches of pinkish red color as each second ticked past, her pursed lips muttering angry unintelligible swear words.

Raising a hew and cry, she roused the attention of other occupiers and the accusations started to fly. Her knobby fingers assuredly pointed at the two black men in accusation. The men got upset and a big row ensued. The officers were called, arrests were made, and they were shuffled off to the county jail, no questions asked. Their protests fell on deaf ears, their color was enough judgement.

Assumptions were made; a missing white woman’s bag and craft basket, two black men = two thieves. What would these men do with a craft basket? No one cared to ask. Maybe they stole it to sell her yarn and needles, and who knows, possibly for the credit card and change in her wallet?

The old lonely observer who saw it all through the designed vitrine of The Hive, tried to offer his espionage services to the officers, but no one was interested in the ramblings of a homeless, drunken black man, who seemed to be in dire need of a good bath.

Mumbling as he shuffled along, he was glad that he was not arrested along with the others.

Musings · Social critic · Uncategorized

Dylann, why? I ask…

June 19, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha5 Comments

I sit here staring at my laptop, trying to finish the story that I am writing but I simply can’t. It is not that I don’t want to, because I believe it will make an interesting read, but just that the sadness I feel at the moment almost makes it impossible for me to think of any other thing, other than the thought that consumes my mind.

I am perplexed at the senseless killing of nine people in Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, in Charleston, South Carolina. I do not know these victims in any way, but I hurt because they are humans just like me. I hurt at the way innocent lives were cut short. I hurt over the fact that a House of refuge and prayer was turned into a grizzly house of horror.

I pulled up the photo of the suspected perpetrator and spent quite some time looking at his young face, trying to decipher how one this young could bear such amount of hatred, bitterness and racism in his heart. Trying to decipher how he could have sat for an hour in the aura and midst of these people and still shot them in cold blood?

Was the preaching not to his liking? I questioned no one in particular.

What could have triggered premeditated murder such as this? No answers yet.

Twenty one years ago was just 1994, so it is very logical to assume that neither did this young man participate or benefit from slave trade, nor did he fight in the civil war. He was not born during the time of heated racial movement, except for recent sporadic police killing; so what could be his vexation? I am struggling to deduce what could be in the crazed mind of this young fellow.

If my little knowledge of American history serves me right, it has been more than a century and half that the civil war and slavery ended on the soil of The United States of America, yet happenings in recent times makes one begin to question if the racism existing in this vibrant nation does not portend far more danger than it is being glossed over to portray. It does seem for all intents and purpose that the black race is an endangered species in The United States of America. Slavery ended ages ago, yet the ghosts of slavery and second hand citizenry lingers on, consistently raising its rancid and ugly head.

I question what precepts and perceptions he was indoctrinated with. What kind of nurturing did this young man have; what could have transpired in his life and heart to arrive at this juncture? Is love so dead to some people that cutting down lives of other people becomes a mere pastime?

He has not only shed innocent blood, but he has equally broken the hearts of so many; and I dare hope his families own too by his actions. He has injured even those who look on from afar.

Why is racism feeding fat in America?

Are there any scientific or biblical proof that one race is really superior to the other?

Does any human have other elements flowing through their veins other than red blood?

Are we not all mortals who live and die at some point in our lives; or are some privileged not to die in the way known to man?

Forgive my ramblings, but I ask these rhetoric questions in sad wonder at how we got it all wrong.

May perpetual light shine on the departed and may their souls rest in peace.

“Hatred, ignorance and greed are killing nature and hatred always hurts the hater most“. Masanobu Fukuoka.

Inspiration - Motivation · Social critic

Tips to avoid the pitfalls of Multilevel marketing business…

June 12, 2015June 13, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha1 Comment

Different marketing schemes sprout up everyday with their endless promises of bogus unverified gains to its prospective recruits.

Undisputed, some reputed multilevel marketing business models have been successful in sustaining their business as well as delivering on a percentage of promised gains to its recruits, but in a lot of instances, other marketing schemes adopting this method as well have turned out to be scams.

One major challenge is the fact that a pyramid scheme which is illegal and fraudulent can easily camouflage as a multilevel marketing business.

Pyramid schemes are defined as: An illegal investment scam based on a hierarchical setup. New recruits make up the base of the pyramid and provide the funding, or so-called returns, given to the earlier investors/recruits above.

A pyramid scheme is an unsustainable business model that involves promising participants payment or services, primarily for enrolling other people into the scheme, rather than supplying any real investment … Wikipedia

In quick pursuance of the ever elusive money, a lot of people fall prey to the scams of those who have perfected a system of depriving them of their hard earned funds.

No doubt, some people have made money through these schemes, but based on inquiries made, those who have walked away empty handed, out-number those who have made gains.

There are four main difference between a multilevel marketing company and a pyramid scheme:

Members at any level of a multilevel marketing model should theoretically be able to make income through the company’s products and/or services without having to sign up any new members.
Another difference is that members of any level in a multilevel can earn more than the people who signed them up depending on how much work they put in, which comes from sales of products or services.
You are not obligated to pay out a certain amount of money every month in order to keep your account with the company live, but in some cases, you are required to buy certain amount of inventory within the year.
There is little or no joining fee, and sometimes the fees represent the products that you purchase.

Before taking your decision, consider these tips:

Ask yourself if you are cut out for that particular type of business? Are you an extrovert/people person, willing to go and talk to people about the business if need be?
Are you prepared to work for that income? Like every other business, your income is dependent on your ability to sell or achieve results. Any smooth sales pitch promises made to you about making money for doing nothing is too good to be true.
Delve as much as possible into the history of the marketing scheme you are interested in. Check out the fine print/get as much information as you can. If your recruiter is unable to provide such vital factual information as maybe required, be skeptical. Do not rely only on the slippery talk of the representative; he is doing his job; do yours.
Always do a cost/benefit analysis. Take into cognizance all possible costs associated with signing up against all the potential benefits to you. If the benefits outweigh the costs, you may want to sign-up and try to make some money from the company, but if your potential loss outweighs the gain, then you might consider backing out.
Do you have the required funds to keep servicing the business even when you are not making money?
What is your exit strategy when you are no longer interested in pursuing that business?
How much have would you have lost in the venture if it fails to achieve your set objectives; can you afford to let go of said funds?
Pay particular attention over insistence for your immediate commitment with the concept that the rate you are offered is at a discounted/best rate and would change by the following day or week.
By applying these guidelines, you should be able to tell to differentiate between the two types of schemes. Some pyramid schemes are very cleverly modeled to cause misconception. If you discover that you cannot seem to make a conclusive decision as to what the company is all about, it is always best to exercise caution and avoid being a victim of scam.

In exercising your desire to own your own business or to be an independent consultant, remember the Caveat Emptor ”buyer beware”.

I hope this helps somebody. Thank you for reading and do pass it forward. Some information are meant to be shared.

Musings · Social critic

Is this not too much information?

June 9, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha2 Comments

Sometimes, I listen to all the news syndication in dismay. Yes there is freedom of expression and freedom of press, but at times you begin to wonder if too much information is simply not handing your enemy all your aces.

The excessive coverage given to terrorist groups has not in any way assisted in retarding their progress. Rather, instead of diminishing, it just seems to increase their self importance and public profile. Sensationalizing these groups has grown to such a level as to prove attractive to adventurous, young undiscerning minds.

Listening to the report of how a successful raid was carried out due to the slip up of an ISIS member by posting a selfie which showed his location had me shaking my head in disbelief. Why let the cat out of the bag? Would a member make such a slip up again? I doubt it very much.

I thought intelligence were meant to guard some information jealously? Is there a point in time, when information becomes too much? I do wonder if there is no better way?

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha