The Medicine Woman…

February 1, 2016 jacquelineobyikocha15 Comments

Phaedra hummed as she ground the Sunflower seeds and dried petals into powdery form. The brew will soon be ready. A dash of mint, a whisk of rosemary, a toss of thyme, a pinch of cinnamon and a shake of turmeric, it bubbled gently.

The Sunflowers always bloomed with such brightness for as long as she could remember. Her rounded bump also kicked more vigorously whenever she hummed and mixed the herbs.

She smiled as she recalled her days as a child. She would perch on the high kitchen stool, while Nana prepared the different elixirs.

Nana hummed cheerful, dreamy tunes often interjecting with a little explanation here and there, to her numerous questions.

Nana handed out the little bottles to the villagers and advised them ‘to take 2 table spoons of the tonic with a smile, a pinch of gratitude and a shake of a leg.’

They always came back feeling more invigorated and asking for more.

Phaedra has become the medicine woman.

Nana passed on to another realm, but the drying and blending of her Sunflowers still goes on.

Inlinkz

In response to the FFAW photo prompt above. Thank you Sonya for the photo and Priceless Joy for this enchanting platform 🙂

The Daily Post

Not By Rote Please…

January 18, 2016 jacquelineobyikocha47 Comments

So many times, I have registered for an online program with a lot of enthusiasm, but halfway through it all, I just barely limp to finish or my interest wane’s completely and after settling down to analyse why my interest wavers, I got to realize way back before now, that for me to maintain an optimum balanced interest in a learning activity, it’s got to be interactive enough.

I like bashing ideas with other people, loosening the screws and bolts of a theory and piecing it back together, that way, years from when I learnt it, it stays with me.

I got to realize that though rote learning might work for a lot of people, to a large extent, I can do well by rote learning but I excel by interactive learning.

I would have returned to school long before now but due to family exigencies, I have been pushing it to the side. As a matter of fact, I registered for a Communication Arts program, but because it was online, I backed out and didn’t bother starting it off. I knew that within a few months, I would be bored to tears with it all.

Same issue cropped up with a program I enrolled for at the University of London, due to it’s online/distance learning nature, I had to be truthful to myself, knowing that I would probably start but not finish it and then waste money unnecessarily.

What works best for me really is reading on my own, then bringing a discussion group together and bouncing all the learning curves around.

I remember when I was taking my chartered exams and I knew Quantitative Techniques was not my fort, I hunkered down, learnt all the formulas, did loads of exercises on my own, then cemented my efforts by engaging my course mates in a discussion group. When the results came out, even I was surprised to have received a distinction for that course. Go figure. I probably wouldn’t have scored that high if not for the discussion groups.

That said, I am considering enrolling back in formal education in a year or two. I look forward to going to class, getting involved in adult education and maybe being the oldest Mama among the students, but that’s totally cool by me.

I am sure that it would be interesting because I will make it so.

The Daily Post Learning Style.

What’s your learning style? Do you prefer learning in a group and in an interactive setting? Or one-on-one? Do you retain information best through lectures, or visuals, or simply by reading books?

Family · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Love · Quotes For You · Social Issues · Success

A Nanny Goat and Her Young Ones….

November 19, 2015November 19, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha27 Comments

When we analyze the state of things and how it appears that norms and values, respect and everything have been eroded, it also occurs to me that as adults, parents, custodians and educators of the young ones under our care, we are equally failing in passing on these expected values, right norms, respect and all that is deemed to constitute a responsible human onto these young ones.

Behavioural skills, social norms and beliefs are learnt and they do not grow on trees. They are acquired through constant teaching and emulation. A child is only radicalized through the teachings of an adult or someone in a position of respect. A child is equally taught respect from early days!

The younger generation did not wake up spoilt! Not at all!

We the older generation loaded them with ammunition like kegs of gunpowder and it takes just a strike of a match for them to combust.

They watch and learn from us, add their own individuality and whatever the end result turns into is a product of that.

In essence a child is a by-product of his/her upbringing and society.

We should therefore hold ourselves 90% responsible for the spate of violence, moral decadence, loss of respect and every other vice that rears up its ugly head in today’s World.

We should not lose sight of the fact that we wield a lot of authority in helping these young ones form, therefore we should exercise it in the right manner.

A lot of times, when I take a look today at the my own life cycle, it does not fail to occur to me that the tenets which I have held mostly onto are those ones inculcated in me in my formative years and I daresay that those tenets are the ones that kept me from sinking, even when I furiously dug pits that could have caved in on me. “When a child is raised in the way that he should go, when he grows, he will not depart from it.”

Let me share a couple of African proverbs for today, and bid you a good day.

”When the nanny goat eats grass, it’s young ones watch her mouth and imitate.”

”If a child shoots an arrow that reaches the top of a tall palm tree, then it must be that an elderly person carved the bow and arrow for him.”

”The instruction of a child in youth is like engraving on a stone.”

”When a mother hen has been caught and killed, her chicks become easy prey.”

Once again, Chape thank you for inviting me to the quotes challenge. I shall extend the same courtesy to these awesome bloggers:

Danny

Maria Jansson

Jennifer Calvert

Kind regards,

Family · Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Life · Personal story

Lifes Lessons… a personal story

November 5, 2015November 5, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha34 Comments

Every state of our being as a human is formed by lessons learnt.

The impact of life’s lessons taught a young mind especially through their parents and primary educators are very profound and these teachings can be compared to the art of weaving a basket, where, if the weaver does a careless job, everything unravels and must be started again.

However, if the weaver pays attention and does a careful job, their end product is a fine basket.

In the case of children, sometimes the shoddy, careless job of upbringing can leave negative indelible marks that takes ages to obliterate, if ever at all.

It is only now as a full grown mother of my own children, that I begin to understand and appreciate the numerous lessons that my parents painstakingly tried to drum home into me and I cannot thank them enough for caring about how I turned out as a human being.

Over the years and so many times in a day, an idiom or parable that my late dad said would simply repeat itself in my head.

Sometimes in such an eerie manner that I would feel as if he was right there with me.

To buttress a point he would say things like:

“When you know how to pound, you pound in the mortar, when you fail to learn how to pound, you end up pounding on the floor.”

“When a word is tossed at a sensible person, he takes it and pockets it for later use, but when a word is tossed at a profligate, he tosses it away and remains ever foolish.”

”You had better start looking for your black sheep before nighttime, otherwise, in the darkness of the night, you will not be able to recognize it.”

“A bad market day is recognized early in the morning.”

”You cannot carry a good head of palm fruit to pound in a leaking mortar.”

“You cannot plant corn and expect to harvest okra.”

On my mother’s part, she would elaborate her lessons with a dramatic flair sometimes:

“Whatsoever you do, to the least of my brothers, that you do unto me.” (in a sing-song voice).

”For a broom to sweep well, it must be bound with others. A lone broom stick cannot sweep a grain of sand.” (with a bound broom in her hand for demonstration).

“An okra plant can never grow taller than the planter. The planter can always bend it to harvest it’s fruits.” (the bending of a suitable item would be done with flourish).

Many lessons on contentment, generosity, integrity, hard work, love, kindness, belief, responsibility, admitting your mistakes, forgiveness, caring, humility, commitment, boldness, confidence, overcoming difficulties, living within your means, honesty, to seek God, values and so much more were taught. Now as I grow older, I understand it better.

As an adult, my surviving parent remains my best confidant and counselor. Her words are gemstones.

Mum and dad were far from perfect but they tried their very best.

The lessons learnt paved way to who I am today and who I will become tomorrow.

In response to NaBloPoMo prompt – Thursday, November 5

What is the most important lesson you learned as a child, and who taught it to you?

Hope · Life · Social Issues · The Daily Post

The Learning Place….

October 14, 2015October 15, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha28 Comments

An institution of learning for children must have the basic learning instructions of reading, writing and arithmetic’s.

I wonder where I would be, if I hadn’t learnt to read?

That would have been a sorry shame because I may not have been able to talk to you.

The wonders and places gleaned between the pages of a book would elude such a soul. The man who reads visits a thousand place’s but a man who doesn’t read, remains in one place.

The learning process of these basic skills will help the learner’s acquire required skills to function and blend into a larger society, as well as laying the foundation which equally serves as their springboard to excel in their chosen pursuits.

If I had the opportunity to set up an institution of learning ground up, asides from the usual subjects that are taught in the four walls of a school, I would emphasize on student’s learning basic survival skill acquisition as well as other skill sets and talents which can be harnessed optimally.

Ethics, etiquette, empathy, generosity, respect and self-respect should also form part of a young child’s social sciences formation, especially in these times when the focus seems to be more selfish inclined with the spirit of entitlement pervading the society.

Let us remember that the mind of a child is a tabula rasa, absent of preconceived ideas or predetermined goals a pure clean slate on which to write and as the good Bible states, we should raise a child in the way that he should go and when he grows, he shall not depart from it.

In response to The Daily Post prompt The New School

You get to redesign school as we know it from the ground up. Will you do away with reading, writing, and arithmetic? What skills and knowledge will your school focus on imparting to young minds?

Fiction · Short story

Just whose type are we?.. A short Story

June 9, 2015September 19, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha28 Comments

Meera dipped the second stick into the collection of urine and within minutes the line appeared again. The instant pregnancy test read positive a second time.

Her suspicions were firmly confirmed. Butterfly flutters of excitement filled her stomach. She couldn’t wait to tell Kevin her good news. It would be a nice surprise, she hoped. He would be back in two days from his visit to his hometown – New Orleans. He went to see his ailing mom. It was not news that she wanted to share on the phone. His expressions mattered. Apparently, their excitement at graduating summa cum laude and having jobs already lined up at the prestigious Texas medical center has yielded dividends. This was a bit unplanned, but that is the likely result of getting carried away.

She fretted a bit over how it would affect her new job. She wondered if she would make a good mother. For some reason, she felt sure Kevin would make a great dad. For a huge guy, he was very gentle and caring. Meera daydreamed. She could visualize the adorable bundle of joy. The baby’s features would be a merge of Kevin’s dark handsome looks and her delicate Asian look. For a moment, she paused a bit on how her baby would be classified, but she did not ponder seriously on that question. This is America, where everything is almost possible. Her child/children would have the best upbringing that they could possibly afford to give them; and they would be loved very much – that was the most important thing.

They had dated secretly for a while but she was tired of pretending that he was just a friend in front of her friends and family. Their love affair had blossomed from their respected friendship as two medical students studying together. They were both very intelligent and supportive of each other. They found they shared a whole lot in common except their race, and religion, but Meerah felt that these issues were not insurmountable.

Kevin, made her feel very cherished, and most times, in the duration of their relationship, he deferred to her a lot. His handsome, calm and confident demeanor had left her tongue-tied at the onset of their study, but his dogged, and positively infectious attitude had finally managed to draw her closer. She knew she had found her soul mate.

It was time to introduce their love to the World. She hoped her parents would grow to love Kevin as much as she did. Especially when their grandchild arrives. Her parents are enlightened and educated. Her father is a talented surgeon whilst her mom who has been a home-maker all through was quite abreast with the changes in time.

Kevin’s reaction was as expected and more. He was ecstatic but expressed his concern about her family. Assuring him that her family would come around, she advised that they break the news to them as a team over the weekend.

Saturday evening’s dinner ended in a fiasco. Kevin had been to the home of the Misra’s before, but that was in a party of other friends. They had come for Meera’s birthday as well as the festival of light – Diwali and the festival of colors – Holi. Now seated as the only stranger in their midst was not a very comfortable feeling. Meera’s mother did not appear quite as warm as before and Dr. Misra was very polite to the point of distant.

He liked curry, masala and all the Indian dishes that he had tasted in the past, but tonight he could hardly swallow a bite. The meal was barely over, when Meera decided to break the news of their engagement to her parents.

Her mom flew up in surprise, knocking over the flask of black tea, her brother flew into a tirade and the situation went downhill very fast. Tears, table banging and hot invective exchange of words in Hindi flew up and down the room. It was chaotic. Kevin could not understand what was being said but knew that it did not sound good. Dr. Misra asked him to leave and out of respect he left with a lot of unease.

The heated argument went on with a lot of acrimony and blame passed from one end to the other. Mrs. Misra chided her husband for not supporting her proposal to find a husband for Meera earlier than now. Now she was about to lead them into a mess. How would she live it down, she wondered.

”You cannot mean to marry him?” she queried her daughter harshly.

”I do mama, I love him” Meera replied.

”No you cannot”, she continued. ”We always marry our own”.

”What is wrong with him”? ”Just who is our own”? Meera wailed. This was not the reaction she had expected. She knew they would be taken aback but not this difficult.

”Deepak, please talk to your daughter”, Mrs. Misra implored her husband.

”Well, I am pregnant and I would like to marry my baby’s father”, Meera declared adding fuel to the fire.

Her mother squeaked very loudly and sank in the couch in a half swoon.

Her brother promised to kill Kevin.

The dog ran and hid behind the big potted plant.

Sanjay’s wife Amira shrank into her seat like a frightened mouse, her kajal darkened eyes standing out starkly in her face.

The only person who seemed to maintain a semblance of control was Dr. Misra, the only sign of his distress was the increased tick of the veins by his temples.

Meera stormed upstairs to her room. She fumed as she thought through the whole scenario. She had never really liked the clannish, caste systems of her people, where the discrimination even amongst her people was so visceral. Their caste system was so wickedly divisive that she still could not understand why some people were considered ”Dalits – untouchables”.

She hated the arranged marriages of two strangers; her brothers marriage was a case in point. Amira, her sister in law never looked happy and never spoke much. She suspected that Sanjay was being too overbearing towards his wife. She suspected that he beat her, but nobody said anything.

She could not understand her parents, especially her mothers vehemence towards Kevin. They got on fairly well with their African American neighbors and the handsome Sudanese couple that taught in the school district. She was glad her orientation was not like theirs. It would be a rough path to take, but if running off to be with Kevin would be the answer, then so be it.

Mrs. Misra calmed down and started plotting. She knew that antagonizing her daughter would probably incite Meera’s rebel heart into eloping with that black boy. If it was a nice white boy, maybe, it would be easier to condone. But this! It was unacceptable. Now she could see why Meera always took her recent supportive stance against the police for what she perceived as a persecution of the black race. The whole situation was still incredulous but she had to thread with caution. She still felt angry with Deepak for failing to heed her advice, but as a mother, she had to take charge and correct things before they got out of hand. They will be off to Mumbai as soon as she can make plausible arrangements.

There was an uneasy calm in the house. It seemed as if everyone including the dog tip-toed around each other the following day. Having thought through her plan, Mrs. Misra made her daughters favorite soup, which was strongly laced with herbal condiments to stimulate uterine bleeding and take care of business. She knocked on Meera’s door, waving a flag for truce and invited her to come and eat with her.

Thankfully and mindlessly consuming the steaming, tasty bowl of broth with chapati, Meera listened to her mothers chatter.

Hope · Inspiration - Motivation · Love · Musings

1 For The Teachers….

June 6, 2015 jacquelineobyikochaLeave a comment

Thank you may seem like such a simple word, yet it is a word that has the immense opportunity to carry a whole lot of meaning, appreciation, gratitude and it sometimes represents plain old-fashioned politeness.

From the very moment a person learns to talk, they are presumably taught how to say thank you. After a while it becomes an automated action, that we sometimes fail to know the value and then take a whole lot of things for granted without giving thanks.

School is out for summer holidays and as I watched my youngest hug his teacher goodbye, and told her how he would miss her, that little gesture spoke volumes to me.

At the start of school year, we had just moved to this vicinity/school district and I was a bit anxious as a parent as to how well my kids will adjust to their new schools and curricula, especially coming from British oriented school curricula to American curriculum. All through this school session, I had listened to their narrations about each school day while holding my breath.

At the onset, we floundered a little bit and agreeably some days were perplexing but we quickly caught on with the way the land lay on this side, and not one day did my children express a negative feedback or not feel like going to school. My worries about their adjustment and making friends soon turned to immense relief and gratitude.

After you as their parents, their teachers are poised to be the next most influential person in your child’s life and they are also responsible in imparting some of life’s most important lessons and social skills which are not detailed in the syllabus.

I have three children who are very active and there are days I wonder how a teacher manages to keep a bunch of fifteen to twenty-five children attentive for six to eight hours without pulling out all their hair in exasperation. I came to realize that the teachers must really enjoy teaching. They must enjoy having their students around them and imparting selflessly on these younger ones who look up to them for direction.

Most of the time, they go above and beyond their call of duty in the education of our children.

To the Amanda Spiegelman’s, Carolina Loria, Dawn Stevens, Haley Bassett, Gbemi Olowookere’s and the teachers of this World who give selflessly, saying thank you is hardly enough, yet this is one of the means to appreciate your kindness, support, patience and understanding.

In my place it is said that “we should keep our eyes open to our little mercies, because the man who forgets to be thankful has fallen asleep in life”, thus in my indigenous Ibo language, I will say, “Ji sie ike, dalu nu”. Well done and thank you all.

Some might wave it off and say you are just doing your jobs, but I firmly believe that you are doing so much more. You are helping to mold the future generation. Keep up the good work.