Jungle Quarters….a short story

August 2, 2015August 3, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha24 Comments

I woke up startled by a scraping, sharp and niggling sound. It was that kind of sound that pierced and annoyed your eardrums. It’s persistence had managed to penetrate my sleep cocooned brain and I was forced to crank my eyes open, lying in the dark to listen.

No, it was not a pesky mosquito – the can of fleet that I bought had taken care of them. I spent a fraction of my meager monthly income for the purchase of cans of fleets which I rationed consciously in order to get good mileage for my money.

Neither was it a furry friend scouting for something to nibble. My apartment was so pauperized that I am sure even the rats knew I was poor.

The night was balmy and as was the tradition, there was no power supply whatsoever. I was practically spending a small fortune on those mosquito coils and fleets because I hated mosquito nets – they made me feel claustrophobic.

I had to diligently keep the single window of my one room shut in order to keep out the buzzing nuisance and in the evenings when I got back from work, I took a double insurance of spraying my room, just in case one recalcitrant mosquito had managed to sneak in. Those things could make a life miserable at nights you know; I’d rather they bit me, than buzz in my ears.

Well, I was glad that my situation would take a turn for the better in a couple of days. With my pay check, I planned to buy a small “I better pass my neighbor” TIGER generator. At least that would power my ceiling fan to keep me cool on steamy nights such as this, as well as disorientate the propellers of the mosquitoes. I had been saving for quite some time and the thought of progress was exciting.

What is that infernal noise? I wondered to myself. The niggling noise had gone up by several notches and was now accompanied by husky whispers of unknown voices.

My curiosity was piqued. In my state of semi-nudity, I tip-toed to my iron barred window to take a peek out of my window which faced the dirt road of our street. It was those neighborhood hooligans. Those bad boys spent their nights awake and robbing people of their hard-earned meager properties.

This time around the object of their attraction was my neighbor’s newly acquired old Golf GTI. It was not even qualified to be called a ”Tokunbo” and Bob was probably the 22nd owner of that vehicle. It looked as if it had survived some shifty and dodgy Colombian drug runs before making its way to my neck of the woods in Mushin, Lagos.

I knew how proud Bob was of his new possession. We had ”washed it’‘ with some goat meat pepper soup and swirls of beer at Iya Bose’s beer parlour, whilst listening to Bob regale us with tales of his escapades with the small, small girls in the vicinity. He could hardly wait to wow them with his ride.

In all fairness to him, he had tried to tush the ride up a bit. He had put in a fairly used car stereo which he purchased at a mechanic’s workshop, blasting music to the high heavens to announce his pompous entrance. The reams of the cars misaligned tires were covered by shiny wheel covers; I presumed that he bought them from the man under the junction bridge who sold a bit of every piece of nuts and bolts imaginable – I always wondered how he obtained such a stash. Rumors had it that if your car parts were missing, you simply had to go to him and buy them back bit by bit.

Bob said he was going to spray paint his car pretty soon and it will turn into a new car. By no means was I jealous of his success. I also had my own plans. After buying my generator, I planned to buy a small television, then a table top refrigerator before looking for my own four wheels.

By my projections, if I eliminated too many visits to the local bukka’s around and prepared my own meals on my kerosene stove, maybe, I would save faster. My savings coupled with my winnings from Baba Ijebu – by the way, I was so close to winning handsomely last week – would see better things flowing my way.

After observing the hoodlums for a bit, I decided to be neighborly about things. After all, I just couldn’t lie down cowardly and watch those crooked boys strip Bob’s car down to its bare bones. I decided to raise some alarm, using the hard end of my umbrella, which was the only weapon that I had, to rap against the iron bars and at least let them know that they were being observed, hoping that would deter them.

They were simply unfazed and they carried on with their business. I crept out of my room to Bob’s room which was just two doors away from mine, in the face me, I face you housing block that we occupied. I rapped urgently on his door, whispering “Bob, Bob, na thief o!” ”They wan comot your motor o”. I repeated this severally and eventually, after much shuffling and groaned complaints, he asked me to go away that I was disturbing his sleep.

Mouth agape, I went back to my room but I couldn’t sleep again. At the very break of dawn, I got up to fetch water from the shared tap to take my shower at the common washroom in order to avoid the morning rush and squabbles of neighbors who would want to use the facility all at the same time.

I had just passed Bob’s door and was almost at the end of the lengthy corridor, when I heard the squeaky creak of a door opening. Out of reflex, I turned to see who it was, and it was the live-in partner or wife – ~~I never seemed to know who was what; at the rate girlfriends, wives and baby-mama’s came and went in the neighborhood~~ – of Rasheed, sneaking out of Bob’s room.

Rasheed was one of the neighborhoods baddest boy. He was known for his famous thievery, but everyone seemed afraid of him. A popular belief was that he was in cahoots with some bad apples amongst the police, who were willing to lend their firearms for nefarious activities for handsome rewards from the stolen booty.

It was a confusing moment for me, because I was so sure that I heard his raspy smoke cracked voice amongst those decapitating Bob’s car last night. So it did seem that when he goes moonlighting, his partner/girlfriend/wife got engaged in her own private forays.

Half an hour later or so, Bob’s bellow was heard down the corridors. The enlightenment of his reversed status had just dawned on him. They had stripped his car down, taking everything including the brain box.

I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or not, but I listened patiently to his repeated curses and complaints for several days non-stop.

It was pay day. I happily purchased my generator. I couldn’t wait to hear the umm’s and aah’s that would float my way. I finally had something to gloat about. For days, I felt like a champion. My ceiling fan worked. My single light bulb glowed in the perennial darkness of the area. I had a new spring in my steps, sure that the young chicks I saw putting heads together and whispering when I passed were talking about me. About how eligible I was becoming. I puffed up some more – if I was a rooster, I would have crowed in delight.

My friend Bob was back to trekking and cursing. He needed a lot of money to rebuild his ride. After a lot of yabs and prodding from him, I agreed to give him a treat at our popular neighborhood hangout, in order ‘‘to wash” my generator.

We boozed into the night and eventually, half tipsily made our way back to our rooms to crash. My door was ajar. That surprised me. I blinked a couple of times to clear my vision, but my door still stood ajar.

In trepidation, I stepped into my humble abode, only to find that my beloved generator and all the wires had been kidnapped – it was small enough to fit into an big overnight bag. Unbelievable, I thought. It was all gone. I raised a hue and cry, searching for my possession in nooks and crannies but no one knew what had happened.

I gazed into the darkness which had only a few bulbs dotting the night shaking my head in sorrow and dismay. I knew that I would have to save for many more months to buy it back from the man under the bridge.

Maybe? I am not sure.

It’s a jungle our here!

P.S.: To aid understanding, please check below for meanings of words which have been written in pidgin English.

Glossary of words.

Pidgin: This is an English-based pidgin and creole language commonly spoken across Nigeria.

Mushin: A suburb located in Lagos State, Nigeria. It is a largely congested residential area with inadequate sanitation and low-quality housing.

I better pass my neighbor, generator: Refers to the small generator (tiger) that is below 2kva.

Tokunbo: This has multiple meanings, but the predominant meaning here refers to used cars.

Wash it: To celebrate something good, like a house warming for a new home, a new job etc

Goat meat pepper soup: Goat meat made in a hot and spicy broth

Iya Bose: Bose is a shortened Yoruba name, and Iya Bose means Bose’s mother

Beer parlour: A tavern where beer is served

Bukka: Local food canteens

Baba Ijebu: Indigenous Lotto

Face me, I face you: A term used to describe a type of residential building in Nigeria, where a group of one or two room apartments have their doors facing each other along a walkway that leads to the main entrance of the building which consists the apartments.

Na thief: It is a criminal

Comot your motor: Remove your vehicle

Inspiration - Motivation

..just a little nudge. Your Tip for the month..

August 1, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha6 Comments

We have cycled out of another month, gradually inching to the end of a very hectic year. Once August flies past, the rest of the months zoom by.

Now is the time to take a little peek at our resolutions, where under the influence of New Years glad tidings and Auld Lang Sine, we scribbled a thousand and one impossible things that we aspired to achieve (myself included).

How have we fared so far? Have we been able to make a crack at it yet?

The resolutions to break some habits, to form new habits, to write some more, to read some more, to change our lifestyle for healthier options, to acquire new skills, to undertake more intimate spiritual journeys, to laugh, love, give, and pray some more, to start that business idea, that book, that class, more rest (yes recuperation is also part of it, for the workaholics amongst us) and the list is ever endless….

Let us not feel overwhelmed and at a loss of breath for the shortness of time, if you have fallen behind.

A lot can still be achieved this month by tuning into ourselves and prioritizing:

– Review that list down to plausible short term goals: for the day, the week and at most for the month. Remember that little drops does create a large pool, and consistency creates habits.

– Reward yourself for every step made in the right direction towards your goals. Rewards could come in different forms and doesn’t have to be an expensive venture. It could be buying that book you have been wanting to read, a lie in, a relaxing day at the beach/park, going out with the girls for a laugh, a glass of your favorite wine, a soak in a bubble bath, seeing a movie, just find out what works for you. For example, when I put in a good work-out, I dance at the end of my workout. It makes me happy.

– Now, go get them. You can do it!

Life is not a short sprint but a journey undertaken in leisure, so endeavor to savor your journey.

Image credit: Thanks to Joshua Earle at Unsplash

Some Edible Mushroom…

May 24, 2015September 13, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha7 Comments

The cool early morning breeze seemed soothing and refreshing, but Jen did not think so.

She was chilled to the bones. The night had been very cold with rain drizzles.

Her lightweight jacket and rucksack were barely enough barrier against the chill,

and the park bench was not made for a good night’s sleep.

She knew she could not linger for too long,

constant fear of being accosted by the groundskeeper,

kept her as uncomfortable as a colicky cat,

but she had no energy left to undertake yet another long trek,

to a county soup kitchen.

She had chosen this quieter place, to keep out of the way of the officers,

who diligently monitored the obvious public ones, and were quick to shoo you along.

She stared blankly into the lush green fields,

the early morning tweets of birds, reminded her of home,

of the birds that had built a nest in the old oak in the front-yard.

Her heady dreams of finding that pot of gold,

at the end of the ever elusive rainbow,

had tugged and pulled at her,

until she left her small hometown, to the city of fortune.

She could remember ma’s tears as she stubbornly sought her way.

Her cupboard had quickly run bare, her rent a history to be told,

items of value pawned at such an accelerated rate.

Still pride would not let go, nor a cry for help uttered home.

The intercessions were getting busier by the day,

With people clutching individually inscribed cardboard’s.

Eyes silently pleading, in hope of a hand out.

She had grown tired of the pitiful stares,

Of the leers with suggestive looks on their faces,

Of the eyes reluctant to make contact,

Of the eyes that looked as if they had seen vermin or vomit.

She resolved to find a way to go home to ma,

At least a warm bed and food she would find.

Hunger pangs were gnawing her insides,

Last nights sandwich had barely been enough.

The sprouted dewy mushrooms glistened in the morning light,

Their toadstool shapes looked so pretty, clean, soft and edible.

Grandma gave us some of those, when I was a little girl she recalled,

but grandma forgot to educate the little girl,

that most times, those attractive ones, would surely pack a wicked punch.

She gorged from desperation, and drank from the water fountain,

Several hours later, she slept and was no more.

P.S. Remember to show compassion to the less privileged around you. You might very well be saving a life. 🙂 Thank you.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Fiction · Short story · Weave that Dream

The other one…

May 21, 2015September 12, 2015 jacquelineobyikocha10 Comments

I met her!

At long last!

Now, I can satisfy my curiosity and also put my aching desire to rest.

I fidgeted as we stood in the quiet restaurant sizing each other up. She was calm.

I had chosen an exclusive restaurant, to give our brains an opportunity to assimilate each others presence,

without getting consumed in the distractions that comes from the busy-ness of a crowded place.

My stomach was filled with butterflies. I could almost feel the rushing flow of my blood in my veins.

This was a moment that I had thought of all my conscious life.

The when? The what if? The how?

I felt that meeting her would be a glorious turning point in my stable life.

We would cry, laugh and take selfies.

We would talk non-stop to cover so much ground.

I came clutching the photo album, that I had put together.

I needed to slay my demons and I felt that she had the sword.

Finally, she would bring some rainbow and sunshine,

into the deepest parts of me that had lived for 27 years with the question; WHAT IF?

I wanted to get rid of that feeling of rejection; that feeling of inadequacy and doubt,

which had been constant shadowy companions, peeking over my shoulders.

I searched her eyes,

They were gray like mine; but they bore no warmth in their depths.

The curve of her lips which were shaped like mine; drew hard on the elegant E-cigarette which adorned her lips,

yet they could hardly shape into a smile.

Her raven black hair was devoid of any grey hairs. No strand was out of place. She was perfectly groomed.

She was still a very attractive woman; for her age.

I subconsciously smoothed down my floral Sunday best. I had dressed to impress.

Her facial features were stiff; I figured that it was due to the use of botox and not just the harshness of life.

A puff and a sip later,

Without much ado, she dove right into the matter.

I think you are grown up enough to understand, she said.

You came when I was least prepared to have a child, and the truth is that I am still not sure that I want that responsibility. I have never had motherly instincts, and at my age, I should know. I agreed to meet with you after all these years because I felt that was the least that I could do; so that you can move on.

I do not apologize for my decision to let you go. I did what I did because it was the best thing for me.

Does that make me selfish? Maybe?

But, look at you! You turned out very well. I am happy about that.

She picked up the tab, picked up her expensive looking leather pocket book and walked out of the revolving door,

without a backward glance. Only the whiff of her perfume and the trailing puff of her smoke lingered for a while.

I sat in utmost silence and bewilderment for quite a bit.

I polished off the remaining Cabernet Sauvignon as my idling brain struggled to process the entire episode.

For some reason, I did not feel a heavy crash of disappointment.

Some odd sense of burdened release seemed to be my most paramount feeling.

I felt like a captive whose shackles had been released. Free to love freely,

the woman who has nurtured me all these years, without any sense of guilt or boundaries.

I realized what my biological mother was,

a mere vehicle that providence used to bring me here.

That a good moment of feeling sexy and conception,

Did not automatically make you a good mother.

Through the figment of my imagination, that I had built over the years,

I had accorded so much what if’s and possibilities to her.

I was happy that I met her.

Happy to have the what if’s, the how and the when answered,

All in one fell swoop.

I may not have slain all my demons,

But I left my doubts and shadowy companions,

back in that exclusive restaurant.

I went home to my mother, my mum.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Musings

Spring Burst…

May 14, 2015 jacquelineobyikochaLeave a comment

With all the troublesome things jumping and nipping at your heels and begging for attention,

When was the last time you unveiled your inner mind to the splendor of nature that surrounds you wherever you are?

Achieving such feat of inner peace may seem far fetched with the constant deluge of horrendous happenings occurring at such rapid pace.

Its almost impossible to keep up and it seems to have our heads spinning in an unending tizzy.

Today has been one of those days. Between the constant alert of anticipated flash flood in neighboring counties and watching the mangled bits and pieces of the derailed Amtrak train; the faces of loss, pain and grief; I had to pause to ask myself..

If this were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am doing now?

What matters most in my life?

Am I holding on to somethings that I should let go of right now?

What am I doing about those things that matter most in my life?

Thus continued the nagging questions in my mind, with no immediate answers at hand.

I mute the television, I take a peek out of the window, I lace up my dirty sneakers and I walk to my favorite park.

The weather is mild and airy. The Earth still wet from the sprinkles of rain shower, which clung to plant leaves and flower petals like a lover reluctant to let go.

Taking those springy steps and inhaling deeply of the fresh earthy smell which is given off by the rain, I try to reconnect with the inner me. I think its a time just to be.

The park maintenance staff are quite engaged, replanting, mowing the grass, pruning and trimming the overgrown shrubbery.

The beautiful arrays of blooming flowers are indeed a good sight to cheer up a dampened spirit.

The fragrant mixed blend of fresh cut shrubs, of flowers and turned wet soil assailed my nostrils in a very pleasant manner.

I chat randomly with one of the workers, asking some questions about the plants. He was very willing to part with his knowledge at a little cost of a simple hello.

I decided there and then to try my hands at gardening. Who knows? I might turn out to have green fingers. Besides, I hear that there is something refreshing about nurturing a plant and seeing it grow.

I see the cautious old lady and her little dog. She offered a smile as we cross each other on the second turn across the park.

I take note of the much older gentleman who slowly sprints past me; I must be as slow as a slug,

I watch the squirrels darting back and forth in careless abandon,

I observe firsthand a bird fighting a poor squiggly earthworm to the finish,

I listen briefly as I pass a young mother pushing her little ones in a double buggy, she was humming a tune,

A sliver of sun breaks through the clouds, as I make my way back to the house,

Its a good day, I said to myself.

I am just happy to be.