Ugochi Ugwuanyi's Blog

This month marks it exactly one year since the inception of this poem. Home has always been a special for me, and this, I make very obvious at every given opportunity. As a matter of fact, my blog article titled, "Of the Already Formed I Ran to" was actually born out of nothing else but love and value for the place I call home. This strong love for my home combined with my affinity to nature led me to thinking of how I could do something remarkable for the place I adore so much. Of course, as a writer, the first thing I thought of was "write." Thus, I wrote, and the result of this writing became "Nsukka my Home." As a ritual, each of my works ends up drawing a particular level of respect from me because sincerely, even I, the writer usually don't know the outcome of my work until I am done with it. Yes, creative writing is most times mystery even to the writer. It's like following a road you don't know. You only see where it leads when you have

    A certain animal farmer once had a wingless and tailless hen. The Nsukka people would call it an “avuke”. it is valued more than other types of fowls that would be seen as complete, because the traditionalists use it in their special religious sacrifices. They use other hens too. But, in the rank of importance and potency, the avuke would come first, and then there are other ones - the spotless white feathered, the naturally bouncy feathered (also known as the “iyaya”) - before the ones that would be considered normal or complete.  Well, certainly, in the realms of the humans, this might be a little the-other-way-round, being that things considered complete are first ranked before the ones that would be be looked upon as deformed. However, blood sacrifices are for the gods, and in the realms of the gods, there is always a tendency to ask for things not easily gotten, like the eyeballs of a crocodile, the egg of an eagle, the vagina of a virgin, and so the list goes… The avukes, the

    Yesterday, I heard Mummy's visitor say, "Not even a pin can be found there now. Everyone has ran for their dear life", and I wondered how long it is before it gets to us in this part.  I turn my eyes to the road at every single noise these days; a prevent - the - danger before - it's -too - late protocol I knew was all useless. I want to protect the ones I love, at any risk, even if I have to give my life. But, my spirit and I knew how useless that wish was. Do whatever I may, I knew I was helpless, and not even my death could save others. I fear for my family, fear for my home, fear for the ones I love. I fear I might go out and not meet my home the same again. I do not base here, but this is my home, my root, and mama lives here. My kins, my relatives, people who I call my own all live here.  I worry about my friend-turned-stranger. A once-upon-a-time good friend, Deraa. We share the same root, and Isiuzo is his home. For some confused moment, I was not sure whi

    It was a double blow for me yesterday. I came back from work at night absolutely famished. And then, my brother gave me the news, "Ugoo, you know that hen? Omee ka onye ọchá? She died today".  You know, until yesterday, I didn't know I was capable of missing an animal, much more one that isn't necessarily a pet. Yes, I can understand I have not been such a good bearer of people's absence, especially people I am close to. Of course, I miss a people a lot. But until okukọ onye ọchá died, I hadn't missed any animal in my whole life. My mum has hens too, and sometimes they also die. As a matter of fact, we even eat some ourselves; even though I do hate the point where they are being killed, wishing on some of those days that we didn't need to kill to eat, but I never missed them. Why was okukọ onye ọchá's own different? Maybe it's because I watched it grow, maybe it's because it's the first time I have taken a special notice of any animal;

  Every now and then, I get really confused and sad too whenever I have to do something that somehow makes another person angry or sad. It breaks my heart each time I am called wicked, even when all I have done is that which I think right. Not that I am saying I am good...I may not be, and doesn't have the slightest desire to be. Yet ironically, my whole life seem to have been lived trying to be.  Goodness is relative, you know, because for every actions you take, no matter how fascinatingly sincere or noble, someone is definitely going to get hurt. Goodness to some people can mean your presenting them their enemy's head in a platter. To some others, you are good as long you give them what they want.  Sometimes I wish I was a good person, but I can't just be, because all goodness does is drain me and drive me crazy. Just the other day at work, a colleague asked me to do two works at thesame, that is, mine and hers, and when I refused, she started giving me a cold shoulder. 

    "Home should be somewhere you can always return to whether you loose or win". It should be a place where you are not ashamed to let down your guards, your insecurities, your fears. It is the starting and the ending point. In other words, it is home first, then other things, and then home again.  Confused?(smile winks**) Come, follow me through, slowly... If you have ever been in someone else's space, say a house, town, or village that isn't yours, especially if this person isn't so welcoming, you won't need to be taught how to value your home; regardless of how little or inconsequential. Nonetheless, when I say home, it does not necessarily mean a house where your relatives abide in. Some home are made up of relatives though. While some aren't. But whichever it is, the most important thing is, that a home is somewhere you feel comfortable in; a place that doesn't make you question your sense of belonging. Of course, it could be ridden with it's