Short Stories

Jungle Justice…

jungle justice.PNG

I walked away from the scene the saddest human; lost in my thoughts I felt more guilty than sin.

Jungle justice. I just witnessed a man get pummelled to an inch of his life, with old tyres soaked in fuel and hung around his neck to roast him alive; they said he had kidnapped a child.

Growls of thunder and sudden downpour sent many scattering for cover, the cacophony of those baying for his blood are reduced to a handful. For once, sudden rain showers of the rainy season come at an opportune time.

Maybe the Heavens didn’t like the sorry sight of a human being burnt alive, this made me think of the crucifixion of Jesus Christ.

Shoulders hunched in deep thought, I didn’t feel the rain, neither did I make any attempts to dodge the puddles of muddy water dotting the pot-holed street. The smell of burnt flesh occupied my nostrils and seared into my brain.

I was drenched in no time, yet the evil of what my eye’s had seen made my skin crawl with filth, and through the corner of my eyes I saw a mother hen waiting out the rain under a Mallam’s kiosk, her brood cocooned under her warm feathers.

I fleetingly wondered if she saw what I saw and what were her thoughts?

For once, I wanted the simple life of the chicken; without guilt and running free, at least until the owner who had tied the green bands on its feet decides to catch it for Christmas meal.

© Jacqueline

Note: Jungle justice is very much practised in Africa. Sometimes, people beat criminals to death, or pulp before the police officers arrive on the scene. This story is written from memory of an incident that I witnessed ages ago.

Quick glossary:

Mallam – an honorific title given to a Muslim scholar but carelessly used to address most street vendors from the Northern part of Nigeria.

Featured Blogs · Short Stories

The sad saga of the Beak-less, Tailless, Gizzard-bobbing, one-leg hopping Chicken.

Beth never fails to send me into stitches with her stories. I totally enjoy reading Nutsrok for my good dose of chuckles and her descriptions sends my imagination running haywire.

I hope you enjoy the farm tale and visit her for more.

Being a farm kid is not for sissies and cowards. The dark side of the chicken experience is slaughtering, plucking, cleaning, and preparing chickens for the pot. I watched as Mother transformed into a slobbering beast as she towered over the caged chickens, snagging her victim by the leg with a twisted coat-hanger, ringing its neck and releasing it for its last run. We crowded by, horribly thrilled by what we knew was coming. It was scarier than ”The Night of the Living Dead”, as the chicken, flapping its wings, running with its head hanging crazily to one side, chased us in ever larger circles until it finally greeted Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates. It looked horribly cruel, but done properly, a quick snap of the wrist breaks the chicken’s neck instantly, giving a quick death. Of course, this is my assessment, not the unfortunate chicken. The chickens always looked extremely disturbed.

The story continues here.

Social Issues · The Daily Post

She Surprised Him…non-fiction

He scoffed in disdain
underestimating her abilities
but she surprised him
when she set her clipped wings
and flew…

One should never underestimate the strength of a determined woman, for it might take forever but she’ll walk far.

This prompt reminds me of a couple I knew back home.

The man married his wife as a teenager who was barely out of the schoolroom and he tended to treat her in utter disregard, calling her an empty brain who knew nothing quite openly.

It seems to me that he forgot that he was the one who married an empty brain. In essence, he also knew nothing; for two became one.

I gravitate towards people easily, so I got on with the lady even though she was older.

Severally she cried to me about her dreams and how her studies were truncated once her mother died. She got married off at 16 years since their father couldn’t take care of them.

From our interactions, I knew this lady has potentials to amount to more than a foot-mat if she was given the opportunity. and I took it upon myself to help her as much as I could. I encouraged her not to give up on her dreams.

She started taking lessons from her children’s private tutor and without her husband knowing, she enrolled for her General Certificate of Education along with one of her daughters.

I felt such utter pride and joy the day the result was released and my dear friend who was deemed an empty brain according to her husband had made all credits in the five subjects that she registered for.

Unfortunately, she’s solely dependent on her husband who is an ogre and he refused to take responsibility for funding her continued education.

The last time I inquired after her, I heard that she’s petty trading and still hoped that one day, she would get back to school.

For her, I do hope that one day, someday will come.

© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Underestimate, The Daily Post Prompt

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.

Out of the silent breath