Poetic Days 5

Preamble

This is the last part of the original series. I am grateful I was able to share it here.

I always wondered what to do with it, and why I even wrote it in the first place but now it has found a place to rest.

I talked about REJECTION last year, and my continuous encouragement is : if you believe you are good at what you are being rejected for, do not give up. It could be quite hard when you feel unappreciated but keep on being a shining star💫

You are not alone

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In this part, I did not plan to conclude the series. I just ended it abruptly and never continued it.

NB warning you before you read it

Love.pain.faith

It’s been long. Like forever long. Like three weeks ago.

I miss having my diary because it captured my everday feeling, it was something near. Now I can’t seem to find a replacement.

A lot and lot has happened since I wrote my last poetic day. A lot.

Last last Friday I walked under the extremely burning Sun, my eyes under the glasses that could not still veiw clearly, as I made my way to the food spot to buy the local food, which I enjoyed. Sudan rice.

Discovered a new transport spot and found my way home.

Missed reading my Famished Road. As of now, haven’t read it in two weeks. I have not entered that world yet.

On a Monday, heard a very heart wrenching news of a classmate who passed away. It was so unbelievable and I was tortured with the thoughts that came to my heart. The thought being: I had just thought of her few days ago. In the early morning, I felt an odd feeling of fear before I went to bed. More like I felt an odd prssence and thoughts of Death. I had not prayed about that aspect but just thanked God for my life. If I had known, I would have prayed for her.

It took so long a time to accept reality as her voice and laughter kept ringing in my ears. I was far away from home and wasn’t ever going to see her, that really hurt. I had not seen in years, like two years.

Prayed for my family and asked God for mercy. I wasn’t afraid for myself because I know my purpose and I know I won’t die till I accomplish that. I will continue in my steps till I get there.

I was missing family and getting small talk from them, social media for siblings and calls from parents.

I applied for about two places to apply my writing skills. Got rejected at one and no response from the other. Felt bad but encouraged myself.

I also finished kkahava right before deadline of March ending. My akkajaja book still pending

On Friday, made a trip to hdda’s place. Khf and hff, pogf and her sister. It was fun even though I was really tired. Past time and I was back to the hostel.

Yesterday, Monday. Typed 8 pages of ghhhy4sas (an upublished work)
No gas, no cooking. No bus after school. Spent excess and was beyond irritated but not irritated enough to be really angry.

Watched some Mount Zion movies. No reading and just slept off.

This morning my face is long and I am not really in the mood. Listened to a nice audio that encouraged me, and beautiful music in my ears.

Also, I posted on my blog after like three weeks of not posting anything.

Thanking God for provision. He supplies every needs, like everything. And even though my mood is not in line, am grateful for life and for God in my life.

Note for this part

I replaced some English words with alien words. I never thought of that in the past but I felt I needed to keep some English words withheld.

I was unable to finish reading The Famished Road. A joker took it out of the library. I was so sad about that, and I have not seen it since then.

The part where I spoke about not dying was not meant to reflect any form of personal pride but it is a reflection of my belief in who God is in my life and my belief that I have a purpose. It does not mean that I control my existence on earth, God still has the final say in my life.

Thank you for reading the five parts (if you did)

If this is the first part you are reading, kindly start from the first to get the flow of the series.

Your thoughts and comments are well appreciated.

Kiny check Contact for some details.

Sending more flowers to those who lost a special one. A special post will be up by tommorrow🌸🌻🍁🌷🌹🍂🍀

#fromamedicalstudentfaraway

Poetic Days 4

Preamble

we that are alive should keep living

O.R.A

Those that care

I felt tired. I still tried my Herculean best. It was time to step to school. I was tired and hyperactive. Met regular faces, smiled and greeted and chatted.

Chatted with my regular every day chatting partner 🤗. Talking about how people were wicked. Stories, real life stories that were shocking and really sad.

The teacher came.
Lovely small cute teacher. Dozed in the class, it had been long I did that.
I was really stressed and chatted, the cycle making even more stressed.

Lab time, pre-time had fun with chatting partner and small voice 😀.

I had planned to do some constructive thinking but blew that away on laughing, smiling, taking pictures and my own taken

.
Today was the first Saturday not to end stressful. The new teacher was straight to point and interesting.

Banana and groundnut fever. I bought that again. Milk and susukainya as my back up food.

A lovely Facebook friend and senior had loved me enough to send me a link for writers. Maybe he thought I was very creative with my blogs and continuous quotes on Facebook. That warmed my heart. I blushed and squealed like I had gotten the position.

I have my plans, I will apply. I have prayed. I trust God for the best. Yesterday I had talked about how creative I was, and was just looking for exposure. The link looked like a ticket.

So now I am to a write mininum of 900 words. I would not be too much about. But will let my natural self flow through my words.

Watched my favorite Korean series for maybe the 20th or more times. I felt moved again. I have so many writing projects I gave myself. My blog suffered two weeks again from no posts and this week suffered another one. I have my topics but data the hindering factor.

I am busy, business I gave myself. I am stressed but I don’t want to sleep. Been back for more than 2 hours but rather watched laughed and cry.

Well that’s me. I really love the lady called me. I will keep at it. It won’t be long. It won’t be. My dream will become reality. I will focus on that. N. B I missed my family.

Note for this part

I did not get a response from them.

I was snubbed😅😅

Maybe it was not good enough for them but they would have been polite to say ‘no’ politely.

A year later, I shared the topic I wrote with the website I shared in the previous post.

You can click here to read it👇

http://developafrika.org/chapped-lips-our-lives-are-chapped-after-all/

Sending flowers to you🌸🌸

N.B I am open to collaborations and enquires. Kindly send a mail to rosyagwu@gmail.com

For my interested areas, click Contact Thank you.

#fromamedicalstudentfaraway

Poetic Days 3

Preamble

And the journey comtinues. The journey you started when you opened your eyes

O.R.A

In this part, the book I was reading was having a toll on me…..

Political Africa, Changing?

Sleep again hit me hard as I tried to concentrate on my written summary.

Was it because my stomach was full? Full of what, three small cup cakes and a small bottle of packaged guava drink?

I was defiant and read amidst dozing.

I picked up the book, The Famished Road.

Today, it was funny but kept me in more thoughts. The reality of the situations the characters were was so similar, familiar. I put it down again and continued with the other books.

I picked it up again, I had already refused to imagine the strange beings. I had only imagined the realism in the story. The images were already formed and I was familiar with Azaro’s compound and the wide space in front of their habitation. I was also tired of getting tired by the father’s continuous drunkness. He was a frustrated man but he loved his family and it was true that you poured your frustration on people you loved. His wife was a good woman, she loved him and respected him.

Azaro loved his parents but he was just so far away from their world, though his narration was the opener of my eyes.

I was tired already. I had sat for more than three hours without getting up, my medical mind reminding me of thrombosis. That was the problem when you studied medicine, you always thought of something extra.

I stood up, my mind had captured enough from the book. It held me in deep thoughts. I was going to continue next time, I left earlier than yesterday. It was still not so early.

In the bus, the usual not luxurious bus. The sweat, and smell, and people. My space was beside the driver.

I loved the style of writing in the book, I said it before. It was so poetic. I loved the puns too and the sarcasm. It made my mind feel creative more and more and it seemed to open my eyes to things I already knew. Suffering and poverty.

I was out of the bus, a new topic already raging inside. I was already having conversations with myself. They were so loud that I could only hear them. I felt like I had a job a job of a writer; that was known worldwide.

Africa and suffering.

I pondered: Is the African man made to suffer? What makes us different from developed countries that had humans living in them? Why were their lives seemingly better? Why were we so consumed by greed?

This book was written 29 years ago but still had the same issue bothering us.

29 years was enough for a man to start a home and have children. Enough for a toddler then to be a family man now and still, it was same issues.

It tugged my heart, I felt really sad. The book was making me feel revolutionary. I seemed to understand what some revolutionist died for.

Could I do that? With my writing? Was I interested in doing that? I remembered the aged that had suffered for it, some had not survived.

Again the boasting Sun shone on my face as I waited for the teeming cars to cross. My life was precious to me, I wasn’t going to throw it on the road. I looked at the rushing cars.

Was the traffic light not functioning?

I was standing too long.

They looked like what it felt when you felt hunger. It came without stopping,the waves biting hard on your stomach. No patience, no mercy and then I remembered banana.

I actually didn’t forget it, I had already planned to get some hours ago. I was going to add groundnuts. The professional groundnut sellers were around, their groundnuts were very sweet.

I bought my snack, already making up my mind for the stomach day. I had some left overs to warm if I still felt hungry. I picked two bananas and gave an older woman sitting beside the shop on the floor.

It was not enough but it was something, saying ‘malesh’ as I gave her, hoping she would understand.

I tasted the grounduts, it was like opoids. It was intoxicating. The light were off, my roommates were resting and the water a.c was cooling. My room was a special cool room.

I didn’t want the words to disappear. It had rang so poetically in my heart and even as I thought of them, I wished I had a pen then. I was born to be a writer. It was born with me, it is a passion.

Note for this part

If you add 2 to 29, that makes 31.

31 years ago, The Famished Road was written, and the scenarios are still very familiar.

I still enjoy Bananas and Sweet roasted groundnuts. The fruit seller knows when I arrive, and is quite kind (as per customer)

Do you see yourself becoming a revolutionist?

Do you think you are doing something worthwhile?

Will you do something?

I write arricles on another site that is focused on African issues, development, and empowerment.

I will share a link of one of the post that I wrote, you can find similar topics on the website:

http://developafrika.org/the-youth-are-leaders-but-if-they-do-not-preparewhat-will-they-do-when-the-baton-lands-on-their-hands-roseline-onyiyechi

Do not forget to leave your comments…

#fromamedicalstudentfaraway

Poetic Days 2

Preamble

In life, there are a lot of things we do not plan that happen to us.

Some of them are exciting

Some of them are terrifying

Some of them are interesting

Some them create a spark, that ignites us beyond our imagination……

And most of these times, they came looking for us.

Why it started

I had seemed to turn the library to my new home. The dozing almost making my eyes almost pulling out my sockets. I struggled to keep them open, the new songs I had just downloaded were keeping me so calm within.

Cycles by Jonathan McReynolds, Aka Jehova by Gabriel Ezeshi.

Cycles most especially was the one thumping as I struggled to concentrate my sleepy eyes.

I wondered angrily why the sleep, as to my knowledge I had had a good sleep. At least sleep for six hours was unusual for me. My night sleep had a retained a constant of 5hours or less.

The Famished Road by Ben Okri was beside my microbiology, pathology and pharmacology. I had been reading the book for a week because I couldn’t take it out of the library and the book is a big book. I had searched the internet to get it for free but unfortunately couldn’t so I had to make use of my time in the reading hall to read some pages as a refreshing therapy when I got tired of reading the medical books.

After two hours of struggling, a prayer, my eyes began to shine; only that the aftermath of the dozing had left my eyes aching.

After some good hours of reading and enjoying the HIV talk. I stopped for a break with my big novel beside my other books.

It was an old book. Written some 29 years ago, I loved the old smell and the cover of the book, the title and the narrative. The book was so poetic, full of humor, magical, mysterious, real life tales. I put it down to continue with my medicals.

It was almost library time over. I didn’t like to be told to go. So I summarised my reading, happy for the meaningful time I had spent.

I decided to read another chapter, it made me laugh in muffled tones, I loved the puns, the writing style. I loved the book because it inspired me to be creative,more creative. It had been long I enjoyed an African book, it had been long I read one, it had been long I read a big book that was not Christian.

My music made me tap and almost shake, good I was in a far dark corner even though there were others there, I just loved the seclusion there. It was getting to the end of the chapter I was reading and my mood changed. It had gotten emotional and tears gathered in my sockets, I couldn’t cry, people were there. I wished I was in the confines of my room. My imaginative mind had gotten quite the picture as I still took photo shots of the pages.

I stood up to go home. My mind in full thoughts. It was always full whenever I finished my daily episode of the novel. I made my way to the public transport close to the school gates, my mind still thinking of Azaro the protagonist and his family and his father and his mother.

Public bus was not luxury, there was even a gaping hole in the floor of the one I entered. Men had to shift to one corner as I highlighted.

The Sun was so bright and it was already evening, I tried to capture it with my hands as usual because I felt it was boasting too much on my face.

I am creative because my mind was already bursting with ideas even as I rode the bus and even as I came down. I was always in tboughts, thoughts I wished I could replicate exactly on paper. They were so poetic thoughts, words carved so sweetly. Reading Famished Road made me feel it deeper, the writer was just too creative.

I tried buying Okra. I had seen it yesterday but pushed it to today. I wanted to buy it today. Unfortunately, just like last week,it was finished. I groaned. I had planned to make a pot of soup. I had already planned that. After recuperating from the thought of not seeing the green bud. I decided to buy bananas and groundnuts. I had been craving for more than a week for that. I had even eaten it yesterday. Again, banana was finished. I groaned again. I had potatoes and my mind had already planned it as a default in case any unwanted no-banana situation presented itself. I bought a bottle of my favorite bottled water and youghurt. They will do, my stomach was not a drum and thank God I had a three week old frozen fish in the deep freezer.

My time will come, I told myself. My creativity was not given to me for nothing. It is a passion and I will keep at it. My time will come, I will get the acknowledgement I deserve. I will just keep writing, singing, being creative. It made me glad, happy, fulfilled. It was a work, job I had given myself. To be keep my mind sane and my time useful, I was made of dust and one one day my breath taken away.

A Note for this part

There are moments when we are inspired to the point of feeling liking inflated ballons.

That book did that to me at the time I read it. It created a spark that affected my interest in poetry. It made me love and appreciate poetry more than ever.

But……

I am still learning. I have so much to learn.

If you observed any tone that seemed egostical, it was the euphoria that I was experiencing.

I believe and love my works but at the same time, I am still growing.

Meanwhile you can click here to check books on this blog: https://sweetrose2blog.wordpress.com/books/

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