Category: The Daily Post

Little rants · The Daily Post

It is Pidgin Today…

jacquelineobyikocha19 Comments
Party-Jollof-rice
Party Jollof rice with plantain and moin-moin

Let us go down to a bit of Nigeria colloquial language aka pidgin or broken with Igbo, Hausa and Yoruba flavour. The translated synopsis is below to give you a rounded gist of the matter.

Abeg make una vex o. E don tey, way I bin won talk dis matter.

Mai dia pipu , how una dey o? Shebi bodi dey eensi clot wel, wel? Se kosi?
Ranka dede! Una wellu don o. I dey greet.

Oya carry shia siddon make u listen small for my vex.

Biko, make ah ask dis kine kwershion wey dey give me palaver.

Dis tin way de shele for our life now no be small tin at all o. How una take see am? Eh?

Lai lai e no supoze be like dis na! All deze tins just dey put us for reverse, when we suppose dey waka go front.

Dis Boko Haram mata, dis ISIS matter don tire persin. Dem be like Ojuju Calabar wey no wan make person sleep close eye for night.

Maka Chukwu dem jus de do bad bad tins de go, an e no funnee ahgain o.

Abi wetin yu teeenk?

We jus dey siddon dey look abi? Na dis kine leg Nama go carry waka for Damaturu reach Owerri?

Mbanu! Odikwa very risky.

Mayk una come o,make we join head togeda begin dey fine the black sheep way dey fo outside before naight go meet us for hia o!

Na sofri sofri dem dey take catch monkey.

Beecause mai pipu dey talk say one day one day monkey go go market e no go return ahgain o.

U no say pikin way no wan make im mama sleepu him too no go sleep .

Na so e be o. Eh aburo mi. Sisi mi.

Abi na lie I lie? If na lie I talk make I naked baf for bafroom.

E don do sef! Oti to!

Diaris God o.

Akoba adaba Olurun ma ja ri

Ka Chineke mezie okwu a. Udo diri unu nile.

Shikena! I don talk my own finish. Today na Sunday abeg may I go chop Jollof rice 😊

Translation:

Please don’t be offended. It’s been a while that I wanted to say this.

My dear people, how are you all? I hope you are doing well?

Sit down let’s have a quick chat.

I crave your indulgence, let me ask this question that seems to be a bane in our lives these days.

What are your views about this Boko Haram and ISIS issues that are cloying the air?

It is rather a tiring situation and they have assumed the positions of masquerades that won’t let people close their eyes to sleep at night. What do you think can be done?

These happenings are sending us backwards while we are supposed to move forward.

Are we just going to sit down and look at events? Is it in this manner that the Cow will trek from Damaturu to Owerri? That is rather risky!

Let us join heads together and search fervently for the black sheep before night comes.

Softly, softly one can actually capture a monkey, because we say in my place that one day the monkey will go to the market and it will not return.

A child who will not let his mother sleep will not sleep too.

My brother and sister, that is how it is.

It’s enough now. Let us remember that there is God.

May we not fall into the pit/trap set by someone.

Peace be with you all and May God intervene for us.

That’s it! I have said my piece! Today is Sunday, please let me go and eat jollof rice. Good bye.

The Daily Post prompt Non Regional Diction

Write about whatever you’d like, but write using regional slang, your dialect, or in your accent.

 

Family · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · The Daily Post

Here, There and Where else?..

jacquelineobyikocha38 Comments

This glitzy city of Dubai is growing on me in its own way and I think that it could probably burrow its way much more into my heart if the inhabitants looked less like they sucked on sour grapes half of the time.20150508_093925_3_bestshot

Whats with all the serious look, that to wangle a greeting or a smile is almost like a visit to the dentist, where you reluctantly have to open your mouth?

Hard forbidding looks, frowns and cold stares are offered as if you would steal their smile or as if the smiles are worth pots of gold.

With a little more observation, I have found that the warmer ones around here are the Filipinos, who are quick to offer a greeting with a smile as they try to cajole you to patronize them.

They are closely followed by the Russian and Ukrainian ladies, then the Indian and Chinese who all want to make quick sales and who know that these foreigners visiting or living here might have a little extra cash at hand.

The Pakistanis are a bit rough around the edges, though their sleek tongued sales men are usually dressed more dapper in tight tailored to fit suits and Mohawk shaped crops gelled into place with enough fritz that the spikes will not even waver under a windstorm.

The Pakistani drivers hurtle down the highway at aggressive speed, hardly allowing you space to inch in on the road. They duly remind me of my Lagos brothers whose method of  ‘shan’t gree’/not allowing you to enter the road, is similar to theirs.

The blacks around are as black as they come. The Ethiopians who are half wishing they are Arabs, therefore not quite sure whether they should fraternize with other blacks or not and then the hustling Nigerians who are looking for goods to ship back to an ever demanding and increasing consumer Nation of over 173 million.

It is an incredible potpourri of Nationalities and I am discovering them as I go on.

The rest of the crew are their usual lukewarm selves, neither cold nor hot, just pursed lips like people who have bad case of gas.

If I could spend my time equally divided between two places right now, I would choose my home’s in Houston, Texas and Lagos, Nigeria.

I miss both places, with severe doses of nostalgia sometimes, more so at this time of the year with the holidays floating in the air. I miss my friends in Houston, I miss the Texas Multicultural Women (a Non-Governmental Organization that I belong to), I miss my library runs, my parish – Christ The Redeemer, I miss school volunteer work, my quiet neighbourhood, the parks that were close to home and so much more.

There is no Christmas like that spent back in my native land in Nigeria. I miss the crazy hustle and bustle.

I miss the warmth of family, friends and even strangers alike. I miss the smiling faces and the loads of social events.

These pangs are not easy for me to capture in words.

The Daily Post prompt A Tale of Two Cities

If you could split your time evenly between two places, and two places only, which would these be?

Blogging · Fiction · The Daily Post

BOND Girl! Yeah Right!…

jacquelineobyikocha43 Comments

Pierce Brosnan

In my younger days, I had two major crushes on two male actors.

The first actor was Captain Von Trapp of Sounds of Music.

I simply wanted to be the singing Maria – Julie Andrews, but I was just too young and after a while he started looking too old for me 😉

My second movie crush moved to James Bond.

OOOh! I had a crush on most of the gentlemen who played James: Sean Connery, Roger Moore and Pierce Brosnan. Not sure if it was the men or the character that I liked most.

I kinda liked Timothy Dalton and Daniel Craig but for some reason my huge crush went down several notches with these two and I am glad to realize that maturity has fizzled away the crushiness especially when my young brain finally assimilated the fact that it was not real life.

Wouldn’t have minded being a Bond girl just once (the one that gets to keep sleek Brosnan to herself 😉 and get to go on those scary adventures.

It would have been nice to say:

Call me Mrs. Bond, Jackie Bond *wink, wink*

The Daily Post prompt It Builds Character.

Tell us about a favorite character from film, theater, or literature, with whom you’d like to have a heart-to-heart. What would you talk about?

Creative Writing · Family · Love · Poetry/Poems · The Daily Post

The Blissful Moment of Love Touches ..

jacquelineobyikocha24 Comments

Love notes

Love Notes

Just for a moment we danced,
  And too soon we had to part,

In that wonderful little moment,
Something sweet happened to my heart,

Your sweet breath caressed my ears,
Your jaw bristles scoured my cheeks,
and left indelible dents on my senses,

And I  tumbled….

Many nights I stayed awake,
reliving the dance again and again,

Many days the rumble of your voice echoed in my head,
Your uttered breath, a breeze to my ears,

Many times I thought of your butterfly kiss,
Brushing my golden toned skin,

A sigh…
Shall we dance again?

Love notes of an enamoured miss.

♥♥

You tossed and tumbled,
Turning my insides into your playground,

I felt your hiccups and your heartbeats,
which echoed like mine,
My little cuddly, smooth and soft bundle,

Sweet smells of innocence as you gaze up at me,
Your snuffles as you latch on,
To nipples that nourish you to life,

I watch in bated wonder, my heart expands beyond word’s,
As I tumble over and over knowing that you are mine,

The love notes of a mother

♥♥

Seasoned hands reach for each other,
In comfort and in love we cling,

Cackling at jokes understood only by us,
Nodding in silent understanding of unspoken words.

We watch many sun’s go down,
Ginger and Iced beer a sip, a smile and a hum,

Swinging on the porch,
Till you say to me,

Let’s go to bed my love,
  Creaky bones and seasoned hands clasped,

In granny pj’s and cosy furry slippers,
We crawl into familiar bed,

And we tumbled, Just you and I.

The love notes of a seasoned wife

 ♥♥

For the love notes of a grand-daughter please click on this link The tale of the wrinkled hands

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post prompt The Power Of Touch

Textures are everywhere: The rough edges of a stone wall. The smooth innocence of a baby’s cheek. The sense of touch brings back memories for us. What texture is particularly evocative to you?

Family · Life · Personal story · The Daily Post

Was I A Peeping Tom?…personal

jacquelineobyikocha27 Comments

1447864640326[1]Feeling like an outsider is not a memory that I can latch on to easily as a child because while growing up, my parents home was teeming with family members, hard work and a lot of play that there was no room left to feel left out.

However, these silly pangs showed their green eyes during my semi-adult early years at the University.

I was a freshman and boy-friendless at that point in time, my senior roommates all had their heartthrobs, going out for parties and what have you and in a bid to feel like part of the crowd, I bowed to peer influence (which is not only very real but can be dangerous as well) and duly started dating to foster my own false sense of belonging.

Peer pressure can be subtly or out-rightly intimidating and when a budding young person is ensnared by some of these trappings of false freedom (away from home and parental influence that have cocooned you for so long) for the first time, it can be a combustion of a whole lot of factors, without paying mind to extraneous complications or consequences.

Sometimes, I look back and truly thank God from the depth of my soul that I did not wind up dead by some of the youthful escapades and exuberance that my adventurous self ventured into – a story that can create a book.

Now as a full grown adult, I have grown into my own sense of self-assurance, self-love, self-inclusion and belonging, sufficiently enough, to create my own windows and not have to peep into the neighbours own.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post prompt The Outsiders

Tell us about the experience of being outside, looking in — however you’d like to interpret that.

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories · The Daily Post

Boomerang!…

jacquelineobyikocha31 Comments

smoking-gun-gold

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. 

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories Series · The Daily Post

The Mysterious Sender continued….

jacquelineobyikocha42 Comments

secret admirer 2

“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.

Creative Writing · Fiction · Short Stories · The Daily Post

Who is this Mysterious Sender?…

jacquelineobyikocha41 Comments

Secret admirerA different bouquet arrived day after day with no indication of the sender.

Sally was uncomfortable with the whole scenario.

It had started without any card attached.

Then proceeded to an unsigned card with cut out words that simply said,

I saw you today. You look beautiful in white.

I saw you today. You look ravishing in red.

I saw you today. You look gorgeous in green.

All in reference to the colour she wore that day.

By day sixteen she was tired.

The notes had changed their tone. They now read:

I want you. To be mine.

I need you. You must be mine.

I will have you. You have no choice.

The stairwell to her apartment now scared her.

Her neighbours all looked like suspects in her eyes.

Could it be one of the three odd flatmates in the opposite flat?

Was it the shirtless guy who stood on his patio every evening smoking as she walked home from work?

Was it the old geezer who always passed her on the street with his dog?

She didn’t know what to think anymore.

This was no longer funny.

It is time to report to the police.

The Daily Post prompt Secret Admirers

You return home to discover a huge flower bouquet waiting for you, no card attached. Who is it from — and why did they send it to you.

Blogging · Humor - Bellyful of laughter · The Daily Post

Sugar Rush Buried in the Pages of a Delightful Book!….

jacquelineobyikocha52 Comments

eating chocolate

Hmm! Guilty Pleasures! Just saying the words alone causes a glazed look to appear in my eyes and a nice zing of dopamine rush to my brain.

I do have a good number of those sinful gratifications hiding away in my closet, under my pillow and all around me and I wonder why I should feel guilty for something that I rightfully own and enjoy.

“Would spending so much on books count?”

“What of lovely, silky unmentionables?”

“A spa treat, is healthy isn’t it?” “Just think about professional hands kneading those aching muscles and massaging that scalp…..delightful right?”

…and those shoes? If your feet don’t run in the dainty feet department where all the best shoes seems to go, you will understand the constant battle not to grab all the lovely shoes that you find in your size.

Sweet cravings are my rapturous indulgence. I could sneak in a decadent box of Swiss chocolates with an intention to have only a morsel or two. That is fooling myself and a story for the laughing Gods. With my nose buried in a delicious read, the box is as sure as gone. The burst of pleasure on my tongue was worth every measure 😉

Those sinful Cold Stone creamery, Dairy Queen, Haagen Daz cookies and cream ice-creams that tend to beckon to me when I am walking peacefully down the aisle are a bit problematic too.

You can almost hear the Dairy Queen go “Psst! Hey! Jackie this way, look am a new flavour.”

It is really a herculean feat to peal my eyes away from their pleading eyes and walk sedately to the counter, then comfort myself for being so strong by buying the smallest Twix bar available.The-choicest-pleasures

I have simply learnt to remove the guilt from the pleasure by practicing the virtue in moderation but not to indulge? Ha! That’s almost impossible.

Oh shush! Don’t go judging me. I know all about yours too!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post No Apologies

What’s the one guilty pleasure you have that’s so good, you no longer feel guilty about it?

Life · Social Issues · The Daily Post · Travel

This Manner of Madness…

jacquelineobyikocha37 Comments

HumanityNo I am not a masochist. I don’t derive gratification from self inflicted pain, it is simply the desire to watch what goes on in an ever changing World of today, hence my torturing myself with today’s news.

Today is 81115 and my eyes are pulled to the television. I gravitate to the headline news, since I don’t have all the time to sit before the TV for endless hours, I pick and choose my moments.

Watching the memorial service for the 224 unfortunate lost souls on Metro-jet from Sharm el sheikh to Russia has been a sobering and solemn experience.

I don’t know anybody among them and I don’t have to know anyone of them to imagine the pain of the families affected.

These were ordinary humans like you and I, blown to smithereens. Little children, wives, husbands, sons, daughters, relatives, friends, sweethearts, colleagues…..HUMANS!

I watched the stricken faces of the Russian citizens, the bell tolled 224 times for these possible victims of a dastardly act of fanaticism.

Terrorists have staked claim of responsibility for planting the bomb that blew the plane apart.

Who can explain this despicable beast of destruction that has given rise to so much inhumanity?

Who can explain why the heart of some humans are desperately wicked?

Who can explain the senseless violence and killing which seems to dot every perimeter of today’s horizon.

Who can explain the raging wars that tears Nations apart, decimating and displacing its citizenry?

Who can explain these virulent dogmas of hatred sown in the name of convoluted religions?

Is there an answer anyone?

No? Yes? SILENCE.

If it is true that it was an undetected bomb, then this is the new ugly face of travel, which would really be a dilemma and game changer.

“The days are indeed numbered.” ”Each day a precious taste of sweet nectar.”

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

The Daily Post Your Days Are Numbered.

What’s the date today? Write it down, remove all dashes and slashes, and write a post that mentions that number.