Jaachi Writes

Diary Of A Pastor's Son (III) 2go Love 2go (an instant messenger app) brought me amazing friends and friendships. Friendships that migrated to Facebook. Facebook friendships that migrated to physical friendship. Virtual friend turned physical sister, like Comfort. Soul knit friends like Bulelwa . And you, Joshua Chisom, our friendship started there. I saw you last week Monday around Echefu street. Boy, you're grown into a big man.  Also, awesome personalities like Lamosi You're loved. Blessings like Blessing and her friend, Sonia. I met Sonia through Blessing. Blessing and I were chat buddies. We'd chat all day, all night about random nonsense. Hormones would fly us nine clouds above common sense and fling us back to reality in flip seconds. It was fun. She was fun. I was more fun, because play on words, poetry, overtly nice, hilarious and by myself. A girl couldn't 'hold' herself. She spread the news to her friends. The Gospel according to Saint Stefn.  So...

Diary Of A Pastor's Son (II) Memories Are Resilient Memories are resilient Memories stay, the good, the bad, the ugly. Memories beat time to it's wear-and-tear game. Ugly memories destroy us. Bad memories instructs us. Good memories make us. So, we make them. Plenty of them, during childhood, adolescence and the rest of our stay on God's once green earth. As an adolescent whose dreams hung around his neck like a pendant, I made memories. Memories so skin deep, they live with me, form my philosophies of life, shape my goals and drive me to fulfillment. Before poetry caught up with me, in the waters of jealousy, I was a songwriter.  At age 11, I wrote and composed songs. Family just relocated from Kano to Aba, Abia. Rented an apartment at 227 Tenant Road. A three storey building coated in yellow and brown paints. We lived on the first storey, left wing, overlooking the Aba River. The balcony became my favourite spot.  I would sit by the balcony stare in awe at Ogbor Hill. Tra...

Diary Of A Pastor's Son (I) The Devil's Box and Daddy's Radio Set Being born in a Deeper Life pastor's family came with pleasant restrictions and annoying norms. Back in the days, because 'the devil's box' was not allowed in a Christian home, our definition of entertainment was the radio set. It's 7pm, time for Deeper Life 'Freedom Hour' on Vision Africa FM, dad orders the family to grab their Bibles, report to the sitting room, girls and mum wrap their heads with oversize scarves, take several seats and listen to Kumuyi draw every single syllable like thick okra soup "In Jeeeeesuuuus naaaaaaaaaame we praaaaaay!" Dad would wear this pious straight face and nod through the 'sigh mourn' until 7.30, taking notes and flipping bible pages. Did I mention you dare not doze off? Not even by mistake. Mum sleeps though. You don't wake the queen mother. That's one. Nigeria plays against Argentina We, dad and siblings, sit before th...