Heart Scribbles

  FIREBRAND- A SHORT FICTION My name is Kiki Jones, I am an accountant, a singer and a young Christian woman. To me, life has been quite fair as I am already established at 24. I have a good job, a posh car, a luxury apartment in one of the high brow areas, and a glowing account balance. I had a religious upbringing as my parents, Mr and Mrs Jones were senior Pastors in our church. As a pastor’s daughter, I was faced with the challenge of living up to the level of perfection expected from everyone around me.  My church taught us how to conduct ourselves in everything we did, so there were some things that I could not do, naturally. I knew the dos and don’ts of the church, I could easily cook up a salvation story to tell whoever cared to ask, I was highly moral, but not saved. As a child who was expected to be perfect, I had a form of godliness, however, I had no personal relationship with God. I was outwardly perfect, I obeyed the laws of the church, I appeared extremely holy, my cloth

Lost a job? Lost a loved one? Failed at a task? Failed relationships? Wasted efforts? Heartbreaks? Betrayals? Negative feedback?  What do you do when you feel like your energy tank is fully drained? A few days back, I was down. I had a piece of sad news to deal with, negative feedback from two important areas of my life that I have been putting so much effort and concrete hopes in, leaving me extremely drained. I talked to a friend of mine and after all the advice she gave, all I could say was “my energy level is 0.0001%” (I decided to keep that .0001% as a reserve, lol). I went ahead to tell her how I was waiting to get home so I could unleash the tears I had been saving up all day. On my way home, I decided to reflect deeply (thanks to traffic) and I told myself that if those tears I was planning on going to shed were tears of self-pity, then it didn’t make sense (see me analyzing my feelings,  lol ) and of course, it did not. On getting home, I had so much to do that I did n

  Can we just live Without being scared of the future?   Can we just love Without fear of being heartbroken?   Can we just give Without fear of being taken for granted?   Can we just eat Without fear of body insecurities?   Can we just laugh Without masking tears behind the golden gate of 32 solid teeth?   Can we just learn Without worrying about failures?   Can we just enjoy our loved ones Without the fear of losing them someday?   Can we just give a sincere answer to "how are you?" Without summarizing how we feel into "I'm fine"?   Can we just be at peace Without bothering so much about what someone else thinks?   Can we just have a beautiful world?  

  My pen bleeds With words that come straight out of a heavy heart The Land is flooded And its foundation is shaken The Land bleeds The nation cries out   Nigeria is soaked! The blood of innocent lives have saturated the soil Lives lost from stray bullets, misfired shots and injustice The Land bleeds The Nation cries out   We are getting accustomed to the sound of gunshots We stare unshaken at our TV screens as news of insecurity is no longer "news" Masked armed men now own our roads The Land bleeds The nation cries out   Education is the key to success Yet, the lock has remained jammed over the years Strikes, less qualified tutors, unpaid lecturers, yet the clock keeps ticking Tomorrow is here, but, the leaders are denied the throne The Land bleeds The nation cries out   The air is dampened by fear Fear of sexual abuse We no longer feel safe In our own fatherland The Land bleeds The nation cries out   Youths h

  "I will tell my mummy"... The molester looked at me in shock as I looked into his face and sternly made that statement. That statement saved me from what would have been a recurrent episode of child sexual abuse about 17/18 years ago. That statement was so shocking to him that he hurriedly let me go and never came close to me again. Sexual abuse is a very common tragedy, many have either experienced it or come close to experiencing it, yet we treat it as something that is very far from our society. Some persons do not even want to talk about it because they consider it to be irrelevant. However, many people are living with the painful trauma of sexual abuse with no one to talk to and this is really heartbreaking. Being abused is one thing, wanting to talk even after being threatened is another, having nobody to "tell" is a whole lot also. Okay, let's do a quick exercise. Take a deep breath. Take another one. Take another. Sorry, Take yet another. O

The blacksmith takes shattered pieces of metal and tries it through hot flames before it becomes gold, a beauty to behold.  He shows no mercy to the raw material as it takes it through the heat, because his eyes are fixed on the sparkling gold the fire will produce. God allows us go through trying times, sometimes, it feels as if our entire world is crumbling, other times, you can literally hear your heart pounding so hard in pain. The heat of the fire leaves scars in our hearts, our pillows are soaked from teary nights, our hearts are pained from the hurt of fresh wounds, yet, our faces beam with rehearsed plastic smiles that shade the hurt. God sees, He knows and he allows us go through these moments, because he is shaping us into the reality of what he has in mind for us. He takes those shattered pieces and turns them into pure gold, passed through fire: a masterpiece!

  Words are very powerful; they could have a lifelong impact on a person's life. Positive words have helped shape the lives of many; however, negative words have ruined so many people. A lot of people would have accomplished mind-blowing things but for some negative words that caused them to hold back the greatness they had within them. While sexual abuse as well as its effects continue to gain due attention, verbal abuse is another silent monster that has ruined, if not ended the lives of a great number of people. Freedom of speech isn't actually free. Verbal abuse costs a great deal. Aside costing the lives of its victims, it also costs their self esteem. They in turn begin to seek solace in different things, which eventually lead to addictions and substance abuse. While some persons may term their being "bad-mouthed" as freedom of speech, others may hide it under the shadow of being blunt. Being blunt isn't entirely wrong, but it becomes a problem w

"Deborah, I read your essay, it is excellent", "Oh, are you Deborah Agbo?, Your essay is superb", " Debby, you are good o, I'm sure you will win"..... These were some of the comments I received from my teachers and friends after I submitted my entry for an essay competition organized by the then Minister of Education for FCT secondary schools. Fast forward to the grand finalé, I wore my well ironed uniform( I actually hated ironing, well I still do.. but then...), I was looking all ready to go and get my prize. We got to the FCT archive house for the event, different schools were present for the ceremony. Alas! it was time to announce the winners. I could literally hear the sound of my heart's beat. I was expecting to win, truth be told. "The 3rd runner up is....", My heart raced faster. "The second runner up is...." I felt like running up to the stage already (smiles). To make matters more interesting, the moderator said..

  Knocked down by circumstance Beaten till I hold no substance Down, I lay in thick waters Covered by dirt, muddy gutters   Blazed by the scorching flame I can’t feel my bones, I guess I am lame Ashes so hot, how do I fight Above this pain which so deeply bites?   At the twinkling stars, I gaze Amazed at their majestic blaze I hear their resounding roar As they beckon on me to soar   To the skies for an endless dazzle, I rise Weary, torn and worn, yet, I rise To a forever of strength and jubilee As a star, how beautiful I would be   JUST LIKE A PHOENIX, I ARISE.   By: Agbo Debbie

  I always find it difficult to answer the question of “who is your favorite artiste?” or “what is your favorite song or pattern of music? This is due to the fact that my choice of song is largely dependent on my mood or current state of mind. However, mummy had a favorite hymn and she knew its four stanzas by heart. She unconsciously made every one of us love this hymn too. Sweet is the promise I will not forget thee Nothing can molest or turn my soul away E’en though the night be Dark within the valley Just beyond is shinning an eternal day   I will not forget thee or leave thee In my hands, I’ll hold thee In my arms, I’ll fold thee I will not forget thee nor leave thee I am thy redeemer I will care for thee This was my mother’s favorite hymn. Mummy loved this hymn so much to the point that whenever she got to suggest a hymn for family devotion, she would suggest this hymn ( we all got used to it ). On many occasions, I would be in my room listenin

  Yipee! After a stressful week, one cannot help but appreciate the gift of weekends, so, thank God it’s Friday (TGIF) and cheers to an awesome weekend. Mummy always loved keeping me very close to her and this is something I fancy talking about. Being posted to Ebonyi state for the compulsory National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) was a “dream come true” for me as it meant travelling far away from home, but my dear mother did not welcome that. In her usual style, she went on an immediate background research on life in Ebonyi (mummy was an informal researcher, lol) and came up with various inferences, the most outstanding of them being that they eat human beings in Ebonyi ( Ewo ! Please o,   does this still happen ?) and that they do not have good water supply in Ebonyi as their water contained maggots ( lol, I still wonder where she got her information from ). I was so excited about travelling to the eastern part of Nigeria that I did not pay attention to her concerns. I told he

  Hello Thursday! I hope your night was as restful as mine. This morning, I did not feel like getting up from my bed, all thanks to the early morning Harmattan breeze. It was so cool that all I wanted was to just stay wrapped in my blanket and keep sleeping for as long as I could sleep. I had to remind myself that my goals were too big to be achieved only in my dreamland and so, if I must move, I have to get up first. I recall with fondness and an inevitable dose of nostalgia my mother’s thoughtfulness and understanding. I had my nursery and primary education at St. Luke’s (Cathedral) Anglican Private School, Jos where my mother taught ( being a teacher’s child is a whole experience on its own ). The day preceding my graduation from the school, I was in school with my classmates for rehearsals. After the rehearsals, we all wandered into various childish discussions when one of my classmates just made a remark that really hit me. He said “I know Deborah will wear gown tomorrow”. ( Y

  Dear Mummy, I still hear your calm voice in my head saying “ don’t cry, I’m not going anywhere, just call Jesus ”. Those were your words as we hurriedly drove you to the hospital in the early hours of 4th November, 2019. I still feel your presence in the house and I see some of your attributes in my siblings. Funny how they also say I talk and act like you. I know if you had a way of fighting death, you would choose to stay with your beloved family, but, no one ever gets sight of the glories of heaven and chooses this terrible world over that joy. It has been one whole year without hearing your voice. Who would think we would ever stay this long without our daily calls, teasing, laughter, arguments, prayers and long gists? ( We could barely stay a day without talking to each other). This one year has been the longest year of my life, as every breaking day gives me hope of seeing you sometime soon. A lot has changed and the house is not the same without you. I want to tell