Tag Archive | Migration

When the corpse is not ours…

In my place, it is commonly said that “when they carry the corpse of someone you don’t know, it simply seems like the pallbearers are carrying an old box.” To make the understanding clearer, when we are insulated and are not directly affected by wicked acts of fellow men, the outcomes of those actions barely cause us to pause and think.

Image result for images of pall bearers

Until we all as humans recognize that everybody has a right to life whatever race or colour they may be, whatever religion they choose to believe in, whatever gender or sexual affiliation they lean to, whatever tongue they may speak in…

until we as humans realize that no one is superior to the other and that all men are created equal – men used figuratively in this sense…

until we humans understand that the migration of people has been happening from the beginning of time and whether we like it or not, mixing of races and change is inevitable…

until we as individuals begin to question our love for hatred, bigotry, division and discrimination, prejudice and intolerance…

until we start to hold the toes of our leaders to the fire and hold them accountable for their utterances and misbegotten directions…

until we lose the cloak of apathy that seems to have pervaded our minds and taken place in our hearts where empathy should be…

until we as individuals search our souls and ask ourselves if we are truly living and reflecting the goodness that we want to see in the world…

despicable and horrific occurrences like mass shooting will continue to gather momentum…

and who knows…

maybe one day, that old rickety box might very well become ours to bear.

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Where is Home?

Where is home? For a lot of us, it’s easy to point to that parcel of land, with its building and the things inside that make it their home. For an unfortunate number, there’s no home, but under the elements, with their misshapen belongings and a shredded piece of carton as their bed.

For a good number of us who are sojourners in various lands, our home has come to mean more than our physical abode. In my opinion, one of the sides of having lived in 3 Continents at various points in my life is that each of these places captures a piece of your heart with its essence and represents home one way or the other.

Over the years, my homes have differed from country to country, I have had to shed material belongings over and over, but I have ultimately gathered beautiful experiences and memories on my path with my family.

Walking home after an evening's stroll.

Walking home after an evening’s stroll.


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The Passport – Friday fiction in five sentences.

 

He was tired and dreaded going home.

Each day was worse than the day before, as her tyranny seemed to graduate a notch per day.

Nothing he did was good enough and she had practically turned him into her slave – working and handing over his earnings to her, cooking, cleaning and serving her hand and foot, yet she whined.

Each time she threatened to call the immigration on him.

Each time he wondered if the price he was paying was worth the passport he hoped to get through this hellish marriage, since their love had flown out of the window.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

P.S: I hope to see you at our online party this weekend. It’s always a good time:-)


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

 

Wonderful, evocative poetry by a talented writer. Left me hungry for more. Jacqueline can write! Linda Bethea

Out of the silent breath

If you enjoy my works and would like to do so, you can fuel my creativity with a slice of cake or coffee😉

Same thing applies to all of us!

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EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US IS AN IMMIGRANT!!

You can check other Monday memes on Leannenz platform.


Below is my first just published Poetry Book “Out of the silent breath” which is available on Amazon and Smashwords.

When you buy my book, you support me in an invaluable manner.

 

I absolutely love this book of poems. My favorites are “Love Rations” (for those who love to give the silent treatment) and “Beggars Supper” (which definitely pulls at the heart strings). Two thumbs up!!

Out of the silent breath

If you enjoy my works, you can fuel my creativity with a cup of coffee or a slice of cake 😉

Totally Homesick…

One of the side effects of moving around so much is that a lot of times you find your heart in different places and you get nostalgic. Some days I wake up with severe pangs to find myself in Houston, France, Abuja or anywhere my heart wanders to.

This weekend, I have pangs to be in Lagos, my Lasgidi. I would probably be attending a wedding or one social event. There’s always something to celebrate even against all economic odds. The two photos are from weddings attended during my last visit in 2015.

Jubilant, The Daily Post Photo Challenge.

Dancing Event

This Is My Home…personal

Home lies in the beat of my heart.

Home lies in your loving arms

Home is wherever you are

Though I wander seas afar

You’ll always be on my mind.

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.

Be it a tent under the stars

Be it a caravan on the plains

Be it a mansion in a beautiful city

My home surely lies with you.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Photo 101

 

Fortune Unfounded…

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The call for prayers blared through the loud speakers, the pull of the voice sounds compelling, but prayers are the furthest thing on Aashish’s mind.

He feels sad. He has no money to apply for residence visa for his wife and two daughters to join him and the much that he earns is barely enough to tide him over, after he had sent some home.

It’s Sunita’s birthday today, he thought that by now they would have been with him.

His children are growing up without him and yet the fortune that he sought, leaving them behind eluded him.

He pulls out the crumpled, almost faded picture of his family. It was taken years back in one of the quick snap booths, on one of their rare visits to town. It has been five long years, since he last set eyes on them. He has failed them and his shoulders slump further.

Sometimes his spirits are buoyed with stories of people winning lotteries and he struggled to buy a ticket, but it was always someone else who won.

He felt he was better off back home on his farm in Nepal and doing odd jobs to augment their meagre income.

At least he will get to be with his family again and he will be happier again and Anu will understand, he hopes.

Being away from his wife has been the hardest part. The fees for entertaining himself with one of the willing ladies was just too much luxury for him.

With a sigh of pent up emotions, he fished out his rubber-bound telephone from his pocket and dialed his brother’s number.

Hello Aadit, tell Anu that I am coming home, he said.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

From my neighbours yards, I harvested these thoughts and would like to share them with you.

Feeding The Tiger, Fighting The Lions, from Deborah Crocker.

Getting That Book Constructed For Submission, from Connie Jasperson

How to easily find time for stress free blogging , from Janice Wald

I enjoyed reading Life Lessons  from voyager of freedom.

Curative list of 2016 writing competitions from Yelhispressing

A little teaser for you from A Momma’s view.

A tale of two dips, from what’s for dinner moms.