Today’s theme for Photo 101 is bliss. Well, it falls in rather nicely today. Yesterday it rained ceaselessly that the school sent a mail of no school today, so yours truly started having bliss from last night at the thought that I don’t have to jump up at 4:30 in the morning. Yours truly lounged in bed. Now that is bliss 🙂
My source of bliss are derived from the simple satisfaction that I can find in the daily life around me.
I make a conscious effort to cultivate a heightened sense of contentment and each source depends totally on my frame of mind.
Something as little as seeing a happy dog, gives me a sense of joy.
Below are some things that signify bliss for me.
Putting up my feet on a lazy weekend and indulging in a good read with some nibbles.
Listening to my music and stealing in some wiggles.
A lazy day at the beach.
Eating out with my lovelies. We get to spend time chit-chatting and I get an off day from the kitchen.
Walk in nature and emptying my thoughts. Sometimes, I use that time to pray as well.
Just sitting and watch children play freely gives me joy.
Getting a pedicure with foot massage. Ah!
The sauna helps to work out the kinks in those bunched muscles. Toss in a good professional massage and I am in happy land 🙂
In my days spent on Earth, my journey through life has taken me many times in so many directions, away from the shores of bricks and mortar that we called home.
From the Eastern part of my country in my childhood days, to the Western part as a young adult, I set up home in many places, but my heart lay in my parents abode.
That was the way it was until I got married and my heart expanded to accommodate some more.
In my years of matrimony, we have perambulated quite a bit. We have moved across countries and continents; from Africa to North America to Middle East and who knows where next.
In these years, I have consistently learnt to shed myself of material knick-knacks that may not make the cut during any move.
I appreciate creature comforts like other human, my cosy bed, the living room, kitchen and dining, but over these years of sojourning, I have learnt in truth, that bricks and mortar may make a house, but home are those who lie in it.
I have always felt that evenings are meant for kicking back and relaxing after a days hectic job, either with family, doing what families do; eat, talk, laugh, squabble, watch TV, do homework etc.
I would rather close my day reading a good book, or browsing the dailies and just talking off my husbands ears with tidbits of the news.
I also enjoy the quiet time of going through my mailbox or lazily catching up with the blogs, with the sounds of my household in the background.
On days that I feel like stepping out for the night, we could just take a leisurely drive through town, grab a pizza or watch a movie with pop-corn and all the works.
I simply cherish my evenings and due to that, I prefer to do my work in the mornings; bright and early, I am ticking to go and by evening time, I am mentally not in the mood to burn.
The downside with that is that what I cannot get done with by 7pm, gets shoved over to the next day.
It does not escape my mind that there are some whose livelihoods revolve around night jobs.
I truly cannot fathom how they do it, year after year without turning into grumps.
I would go bonkers and probably turn into an ogress – QED.
Which friends? Bob asked Fiona. He peered at her through his reading glasses with more concentration than normal.
Out in the country, their nearest neighbour was miles away.
Since her feverish bout, she has picked up queer habits, muttering to herself, getting into arguments with his mother, wandering off to the woods with a picnic basket and spouting nonsense thereafter.
The past few days were worse. She rambled in a silly fashion.
He shook his head sadly. Mother was right. Fiona was losing her mind.
Such dampening thoughts made him decide to go for a walk.
He wandered deep into the woods, enjoying the quiet and peaceful sounds of nature, but today he felt as if eyes were watching him!
Ever so often, he turned sharply when he heard the crinkle of twigs.
Just when he chalked it down to his disturbed feelings, the crinkles grew louder and a smiling, odd looking alien tugged at his trouser leg.
Have you come to play with us Mr. Ford? It asked.
He yelped in fright and raced back home. He was utterly speechless.
As most of you know by now, Barbara Beacham, the lovely host of “Monday’s Finish the Story” flash fiction challenge, passed away from cancer, on Sunday, November 22.
Because she was a beacon for many of us, several people have asked that a flash fiction challenge be done in her honor and in her memory. This is a ‘special’ challenge and does not replace the normal weekly challenge which will be posted as normal.
Thank you Priceless Joy for presenting this humbling idea. May she rest well.
There is no one in the room with me, except my lazy feeling self, the quarreling voices in my head telling me to ignore you, WordPress and the television which I have put on mute to dispel all the bad news floating in and disrupting my creative juices; though I like the flickering bursts of colour so I leave it on.
It’s fun at times to look at the yammering lips on TV, not hearing what they are saying, using your imagination to figure it out and laughing at nothing – please don’t think I am crazy, just the creative juice in overload today.
I am home alone and I can tell you I am tougher than Macaulay Culkin, so don’t get any ideas of sneaking in!!
The children and their Papa should be stepping back in pretty soon and they can terrorize with well aimed bites, kicks, ladles, pots and pans; you have been forewarned!
So, I will have well fortified backup even though I trust my screeching techniques well enough.
Any attempt for any fear or scary stuff to sneak in, is at it’s own peril!
I am amply armed with my heavy wielding bible, my certified holy water that will turn you into mush in a sprinkle of an eye, my gleaming prayer beads and a nice weighty crucifix for beating sound sense into the scare source for attempting to give me nervous breakdown.
Maybe, I should quickly place an order for chainsaw – the Chinese are known to deliver rapidly, what do you think? Getting more gory right?
Well, I have advertised my ammunition at no price.
Should you, FEAR, venture to come in, a crucifix bludgeon, a screech with bible quotes, a hasty recital of the beads and a sprinkle in the eye and you will be transformed magically, finding yourself pressed willy-nilly into the church choir!
Well now, this is the silliest prompt response I have given so far, to a repetitive prompting.
This prompt about fear was addressed in a roundabout way just a few days ago and this was my response.
Now let me go and bring my casserole out for dinner.
Intense look from his eyes caused Brigitte to peek over her shoulders. No one there, except the wall.
“The gentleman from the symposium.” “Of course, it couldn’t be me that he is admiring.” “No one notices wallflowers or do they?”
Mama despairs that she would be left on the shelf.
”Don’t slouch Brigitte!” ”Wear a smile, you shouldn’t scowl so much!”
Auntie Agatha tut-tutted at her bumbling attempts at playing the piano, violin or knitting.
”Don’t frighten off possibilities with too much knowledge of tomes, ruins, horses and butterflies.” ”Men do not appreciate too much intelligence her sage counsel.”
Tired of no dance, a breath of fresh air is required. A flitting moth of unusual colour catches her eyes and she ventures to discover; new addition to my glossary she thinks.
Over voluminous skirts she trips into the Rose bush.
Strong arms encircle to help her up as she mouths her thanks into intense gray eyes.
Unwittingly, she has captured her own Tiger butterfly.
Pulitzer winning or not, journalists like to delve into every part of your anatomy and dig out dirty secrets when given the room to do so.
Sometimes, when I read articles or listen to tittle-tattle and junk news that smacks of downright breach of privacy as well as meanness with a good measure of desperate desires to hurt the other person, the quote ”that the heart of man is desperately wicked” comes to my mind.
The great urge to pull down and annihilate the other person takes primal position in their minds and in as much as I like honesty, being upfront and read as an open book, there are certain areas that I would be unwilling to discuss beyond the peripheral aspects.
Putting my family members under undue glare of the limelight is not something that I would be willing to entertain. I guess I will be suspicious about the reporters motive for asking prying questions about family, even if they are nicely and positively coined. I would rather their privacy is maintained, except where they were to choose otherwise.
Issues bordering on sexuality are not topics that I am likely to dabble into either. Oh yes! such hot topics sells the news, but, no thank you! I won’t be your next meal ticket!
I think that the excessive push of sexual boundaries and Mores in today’s world is part of the dysfunction that we are experiencing. Nothing seems to be private anymore! Individual sexual proclivities should be kept personal and not for public consumption. Sometimes, in the bid to say so much and show our fierceness, we hurt ourselves and others.
I am also not sure that I would be willing to discuss my future plans in any details. I like to hold some of my thoughts to my chest, knowing the fact that my tomorrow’s don’t lie in my hands. It leaves me feeling strange, as if I am putting the cart before the horse.
I guess I can pretty much talk about everything else including some dirty secrets in my garden! Who doesn’t have any secrets?
Sometimes, some secrets are even better kept open. That way, they loose their sting and the power to hurt the secret holder.
Collecting his accumulated Isusu from the thrift collector Mama Nchekwube was like a dream come true for Ikem. His skepticism had prevented him from participating in one before, until his friend Ifeanyishowed him the dividends of his own effort.
He had never held such an amount of money put together as his own. It felt good. All the ideas of what he planned to do ran around in his head.
Now, he would buy a nice Ankarawrapper, vegetable oil and share a bag of Abakaliki rice with his neighbour to take home to Mama for Christmas. She prefers the local rice to the foreign ones that have been de-husked. They seemed to loose the real taste of Osikapa, but the art of cleaning the Abakaliki rice which was known to contain stones, was only perfected by old hands like Mama.
There was a hurried excitement of Christmas in the air. Wheel-barrow boys were pushing around cassettes of Christmas songs by ABBA and also blaring them from their cassette players from one end of the market to the other.
You could hear the exchanges of customers and vendors over the noisy din:
“Ha!Nwanyi Bacha, biko, I need to travel with this blouse o.” ”When can I come and collect it?”
”Nne, you should have brought this material earlier than now.” ”You know that this is the season for us eh!” ”I will try my best but maybe on 22nd, you can come and collect it.”
”Hei!Mbanu! ”Please 22nd is too far.” ”I am traveling on 23rd to the village.” ”Please try for 20th.” ”Biko!”
Indeed, it is the season of harvest for the tailors. They are turning brisk business churning out Christmas and New year attires as expediently as possible for all the holiday galore.
Ikem was gripped with nervousness. The money in his pocket felt hot that he could almost feel it burning through the lining of his trouser. Every brush of another human in the buzzing, cramped market made the butterflies in his stomach flutter some more. He felt as if eyes were watching him and he decided there and then to go and open a First Bank account.
He had never owned an account before and this time of the year is known for spikes in highway robberies and pick-pocketing. He had no plans of falling victim of such nefarious activities and losing his hard-earned money.
The remaining days fly past in a flurry of activities. As he excitedly packs his meager belongings to take back to the village. He knows that he will miss this place and pangs of melancholy occupy his thoughts, but he has to journey forth to pursue brighter tomorrow’s at Onitsha.
****
The motor-park is a commotion of human traffic and vehicles. Wagons are filled with families all loaded down to the teeth with their luggage for the forth-coming days of merriment. Conductors are shouting their destinations on top of their voices to draw passengers attention. Hawkers of all sorts of items, bread, boiled egg, chin-chin, kuli, kuli, soft drinks are doing their best to entice the traveling customers to patronize them..
Quick bargains are struck, last minute purchases are made, buses loaded to the last perimeter takes off with passengers, to Enugu, Ozubulu, Awka, Okigwe, Orlu, Owerri, Aba etc.
The Igbosare well known to sojourn home en-mass during this festive period. It is almost like a general return of indigenes. Some would travel for days on top of lorries all the way from the northernmost part of Nigeria to be with their families for the holidays.
Ikem boards a bus going to Oji, he cannot wait to eat Mama’s authentic Okpa and Abacha Ncha. These are some of the delicacies of his people.
Quick Glossary for words that you may not know:
Abakiliki: Abakaliki is the capital city of Ebonyi State in southeastern Nigeria. The inhabitants are primarily members of the Igbo nation. Abakaliki, as in the past, is a center of agricultural trade including such products as yams, cassava, rice,
Abacha Ncha/aka African salad: Native snack/meal peculiar to the Igbos but has become a well-known delicacy all over Nigeria. Made from cassava flakes, with palm-oil, oil-bean seeds, dry fish, garden egg etc
Ankara: African print known to symbolize African fashion.
Biko: Igbo word for saying ‘please.’
Chin-chin: A fried snack popular in West Africa. It is a sweet, crunchy, doughnut-like baked or fried dough of wheat flour, and other customary baking items.
Hei!/Ha!: An exclamation which could mean, you don’t say, indeed, what, really and a myriad of other meanings.
Ifeanyi: A popular Igbo name shortened from Ifeanyichukwu which means, nothing is bigger than God.
Igbos/Ibo: The Igbo people, historically spelled “Ibo”, are an ethnic group of southeastern Nigeria. They speak Igbo, which includes various Igboid languages and dialects. Igbo people are one of the largest ethnic groups in Africa. They arerenowned for their tough, resilient adaptability as business people, tradersandfortheirart. The largest migrating tribe in Nigeria.
Ikem: An Igbo name for boys shortened from Ikemefuna, meaning may my power/strength never be lost/or founding.
Isusu: An informal means of collecting and saving money through a savings for the enablement of kith and kin ventures.
Kuli-Kuli: Hausa food that is primarily made from peanuts. It is a popular snack in Nigeria. It is often eaten alone or with a mixture of garri, sugar and water popularly called “garri soakings”
Mama Nchekwube: Nchekwube is shortened from Nchekwubechukwu which means to have hope on God.
Mbanu: An expanded NO with a bit of cajoling added to it.
Nwanyi Bacha: A nickname given to the female tailor occupying the prefabricated shed where she sews. It’s like saying ”the lady at the shed” or nicknaming someone after their trade e.g. egg seller, truck pusher, driver etc.
Oji: A Local Government Area of Enugu State, Nigeria to the south bordering Anambra State and Abia State
Okpa: A traditional Eastern Nigerian delicacy, made with ground Bambara beans.
Onitsha: A city with one of the largest commercial markets in West Africa. It is situated on the river port on the eastern bank of the Niger river in Anambra State, southeastern Nigeria.
Osikapa: A local Igbo name given to cooked rice.
Enugu, Ozubulu, Awka, Okigwe, Orlu, Owerri, Aba etc. Some of the towns and villages found in the Eastern Region of Nigeria inhabited by the Igbos.
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a cooking pot and twisted tales 