Family · Life · Musings · Poetry/Poems

Tints of Poignant Flavour….

Flavourful life

Flavours come in coloured tints,
Likewise emotions leave imprints,

They leave taste of euphoric dopamine,
Especially then, when you were mine,

They leave a taste of not so bright,
When everything is just not right,

A dash of joy, of peace, of faith, of hope and patience too!
A pinch of pain, of aches, of sorrow, of fear and trouble too!

With a tint of colour, each lives in our minds,
Always willing to leave something behind,

Of love that died or went away; it leaves a flavour mound,
A poignant taste of things all gone and never to be found!

You left our lives with quite a bang!
You left us behind with a lot of pangs!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Miss you dad! Happy birthday. Its 2 years on, since you left!

In fulfillment of Writing 201 Poetry – Day 8: Flavor, Elegy, Enumeratio

Family · Life · Love · Personal story · Poetry/Poems · Writing

Ude-Aku…The tale of the wrinkled hands

Grandma dancing on the occasion of my traditional/customary marriage.
Grandma dancing on the occasion of my traditional/customary marriage.

I held your frail wrinkled hands in mine,
They were much smaller!
Now! You were old!
The skin of your hands had waxed, waned and tautened over decades;
Toughened by ages of farming and weeding, from lifting innumerable hot clay pots from the burning firewood, from bathing babies; lots and lots of babies.

I caressed them lightly; noting the veins that stood out more prominently; noting the traditionally placed tattoos and the story behind the tattoos;
Beautiful age worn hands that had nourished,
Beautiful wrinkled bejeweled fingers that lightly applied ”Ude-Aku” on my scalp whilst shaping my unruly hair into a bouffant style.

Those fingers were my preferred hair stylist because, you did not pull it tight like Mama Nkechi used to do whilst making the periwinkle hair-do for me.
Beautiful hands that left my little bum smarting from a well-deserved smack after a misbehaviour.

I beheld your face with my eyes. Your beautiful dark skinned face;
I looked! Looking and looking at every lovely lined feature of your face.
Knowing that it might probably be the last time that my eyes would behold your skin.
Your eyes had seen the Civil war, your eyes had looked life in the face, it was a map of times past, etched with love and pain, with joy and laughter, with fear and worry, with seeing things that I can barely imagine…
Your lovely wrinkled face, etched with very fine lines and tiny spots that had stolen in and taken bold space,
Your crown of whitened hair held in a little bun
Everything had grown smaller!
Your skin had shrunk and your capacious bosom which used to cradle my hair, had bowed to the caprices of gravity
You had aged!
I saw it coming! I knew that it would happen!
But I wasn’t prepared!
The pain still cut me deep!
I wasn’t prepared to stop looking at your age-wizened face!
And when you left, you left with the name!
Grandma, nobody ever calls me Nnedim or Ngozika again!
They were your special bequests to me.
You left with your skin all shriveled by death
And you took the lovely smell of Okwuma and Ude-Aku!

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Quick Glossary For Words in Native Igbo:

Nkechi:  A native Igbo name shortened from Nkechinyere which means “The one that God gave.”

Ngozikaego: A native Igbo name which means ”Blessings are far better than money” derivatives of the names are Ngozi, Ngozika, Kaego, Ego

Nnedim: meaning ”My husbands mother” this infers to the belief in reincarnation and grandma believed that I was her mother-in-law reincarnated..

Okwuma: Native ointment made from Shea Butter.

Ude-Aku: Local body cream made from oil extracted from roasted palm kernels.

In fulfillment of Writing 201 – Poetry Day 3: Skin. Prose Poem. Internal Rhyme.

Some of the hairstyles back then.
Some of the hairstyles back then.
Hope · Life · Poetry/Poems

How Do You Heal A Heartsick Heart?…….HELP me!

sad-black-woman

I know all that I want to say;

There are drafts, lots of them;

The words are not lacking at all;

The ideas are bounteous and overflowing;

Yet I have no words to say anything;

Because I am heartsick!

How do you heal a sick heart?

How do I get my happy again?

I know the words in my treasured Bible;

I know that they comfort me;

I ask for a silver lining in this dark cloud;

But I see nothing; not yet at least;

Is it under my bed?

Maybe I should take a look!

Is it in a bottle?

I have no head for such!

Is it in prayers?

A heavy heart, all I do is sigh!

In the pages of a book?

My drifting mind goes here and there!

Where is it?

But still my heart sickens within me;

I feel empty like a hollow drum;

And I hate to feel this way;

Or to have a pity party;

It is said that time heals;

I think time just covers the sores;

Of oozing wounds;

But the scar tissues are left behind;

To remind us of the battles behind;

I try all the positive pick me ups;

I do hate to be in the doldrums;

I stuff myself with sugary bites;

Hoping to find some delight;

Yet nothing seems to work!

At least I can try to write the pain away!

How do you heal a heartsick heart?

Does anyone know?

Because this struggle is real!

I am human not machine;

I feel things like every other like me;

Despite the upbeat state of mind;

That I choose to maintain;

Sometimes, the pain is so real

It consumes your entire being;

You cannot seem to think of anything else;

The laughter is forced;

The companionship is wanted and not wanted;

The placation placates and annoys;

Your feelings are all twisted and upside down;

Sometimes, I wish that it is easy to stop feeling;

To become an Island and create a buffer around your heart;

That way you loose no one and you feel nothing;

But that would be a sad waste wouldn’t it?

The struggle is real!

Some may think it is a show of weakness;

To wail and to seek for help;

But I know that I don’t have all the answers;

Neither do I care for toughies who know it all!

Tell me; how do you heal a heartsick heart?

P.S. When the grim reaper deals a blow; Someone must be left grappling with the wicked show!

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · The Daily Post

At a point it was sinking sand…

mountain tops

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Mountaintops and Valleys.”

Describe a time when you quickly switched from feeling at the top of the world to sinking all the way down (or vice versa). Did you learn anything about yourself in the process?

Despite conscious efforts not to be a depressing wet blanket, to maintain a sunny and optimistic outlook in life, there are times when life throws you sucker punches that leaves you gasping for breath and almost asphyxiated.  You are left grappling at anything that will keep you from sinking down the bog that is eager and willing to swallow you whole greedily.

I can think of personal events that hit me in the solar plexus and dragged me from high to rock bottom.

I hate to pull out the tissue box, but I have also learnt that talking about these things, helps to heal gaping wounds.

  • The loss of my preemie baby.
  • 2 consecutive miscarriages.
  • The loss of my dad.
  • A car accident that took the life of a young man. I was the driver!

Without expending a lot of adjectives and flowery prose, losing a baby or even a pregnancy plunges one from the delight of expectancy to nothing… to the pits of despair, hopelessness, anger, sadness, and a multitude of emotions that I can barely define. I leave the rest for you to imagine.

Hearing placating words during such occurrence was barely sufficient if not upsetting. I remember when I suddenly lost my 28 week old baby, and a friend said to me “don’t worry, another baby will come” all I asked was whether a child is a replaceable item like furniture?

My dad’s passing was not a sudden event. It was a painful, grueling battle with cancer and it was not the best of times. Watching the strong man whom I loved so much bowed down by a vicious ailment which left him the ‘sufferer’ and those around him stricken beyond words is not something that I would wish anyone.

We fought like Tigers, but we were left beaten, bruised, bloodied and we lost. Knowing that he was ill did not make the pain any less. My sole joy is that I can honestly testify that my late dad was a good, gentle and upright soul. I will always miss him.

Another event that struck like a bolt of lightning out of the blues was a car accident that I was involved in. You might want to read this A letter to the young man that died. That saying, that a split second can change everything about someone’s life remains true.

I did not come away from these experiences empty handed. I have learnt and still learning to live in the moment and appreciate it. That I can be strong when there is no other choice and not to take anyone or anything for granted.

My biggest lesson so far has been a spiritual journey in Trusting, Believing, and having Faith in God. He has been my source of strength, sanity and boundless peace during these stormy times.

If per chance sharing my experience (that it is possible for someone to rise from the shadowy doldrums to face the light) serves as a source of inspiration and hope for anyone, then something positive would have been achieved.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

P.S. No more soppy prompts please. I am out of tissue box. Thank you 😉

Image credit: Sayquotable.com

Hope · Life · Writing

A letter to the young man that died…

The crossDear Sir,

I killed you and I am truly so sorry!

A dash into a six lane highway in pursuit of something that no one could tell, cost both of us so much.

They called it an accident, yet my spirit has grieved for long and the incident replays itself over and over in slow motion in my head. The screech and skid of the tires, the spinning and the abyss of blackness…

You died! How I came out of that vehicle with just a few scrapes was by the Mercy of God. I felt that I should have been more hurt than I was. The months that followed were extremely hard and it has taken a lot of Grace to forgive myself.

I always ask myself these rhetorical questions:

  • What was pursuing you or what were you pursuing?
  • What if I had left a tad earlier that day, would that have made a difference or would someone else be saddled with this burden of guilt?
  • Should I blame the Local Government for not installing pedestrian crossings on a highway; where it shouldn’t be?
  • Should I blame your foolhardy self for dashing into a six lane express by 10:30 in the morning?
  • Should I blame fate for putting me in your path and reconcile that it was meant to be?

I don’t drink, neither do I do drugs, so blaming intoxication is even out of the question!

My heart bleeds every moment that I think of this.

Every time that I wonder if you are okay where you are? If you ever had the chance to make peace with your God?

You were in your late 20’s and I wonder what dreams you had for the future; if any at all?

You have forever changed my perspective about life.

I guess I will never know the answers to my questions, but this I know for sure;

I will always offer a prayer for you.

Jacqueline