Village musing

Waking up, the first thing that hits you is the cold!!

That bone chilling, breath stealing, mind numbing cold that makes you wish you thought better about wearing normal teeshirts to bed and makes you resolve to include a duvet subsequently.

Nevertheless, you get out of bed and ignore it because, of course, your cramped two bedroom apartment in Lagos could never!!

Stepping out of the room into the harmattan mist drops the temperature considerably and for a minute, you are stunned into paralysis and can only huddle up and blow warm, mist-laden breaths into freezing palms.

You’d endure all this and freeze over and over again though because taking that trip back home to the village is worth it all.

Its always been that way for me.

Standing alone in the cold at the back yard of my parents house, the absolute sense of peace hits hard and re-intensifies the joy of getting away from the manic energy of Lagos.

I’m staring at vegetation all around the yard. It’s very well arranged.

Rows of pineapple plants with good looking, mature fruits sitting atop, Banana trees, one slightly bowed with a massive bunch of unfortunately unripe fruit, a couple of dwarf palm trees, a guava trees, a soursop tree with lots of very well camouflaged thorny fruit and a couple of Pawpaw trees at the edge of the fence making up the rear guard. As soon as I sight some ripened ones, I gleefully give in to the urge to pluck some pawpaws from one strangely slender, yet well laden tree.

Plucking pawpaws is a bit tricky, especially if they’re very high up and really ripened. The lengthy pole I’m using is sharp and easily pierces through the flesh without really dislodging it. Changing tactics brings better luck, as I wrap nylon bags around the sharp end of the stick and maneuver it to the actual stem where the succulent fruit is joined to the tree. A sharp prod brings it crashing down and as I’m stepping away with my prize, a pair of real life squirrels darting nimbly through the barbed wire atop the fence start making noises as if berating me for intruding into their space!!

Lol…fuck off you rodents. I was here first.

The air is different here. Not sure how I can describe it. It just seems…..for lack of a better word, purer. Inhaling is like taking menthol laden breaths and maybe it’s just the cold but clarity comes easier here and words/thoughts seem to come together better while breathing in the early morning air.

The village is coming awake. You can tell from the sounds. Metallic clangs from the tapper’s bicycle as he rides by, hungry bleats from the pampered goats in the next compound, scratching noises from firewood being dragged from piles to start fires, sputtering noises from motorcycle engines being started, a very weird call from a bird I’m yet to identify (tu-tu tu-tu...tuu tuuuu…) and yes, plenty of proud, lusty crows from unfaithful cocks all over the place.

Meanwhile I hear some insanely weak cock-crows coming from somewhere in the yard, almost like a low growl. Intrigued, I trace it to a small building at one end of the compound. It turns out to be a coop and I immediately identify the culprits. Two very big broiler cockerels. Despite their size, turns out these giant birds who can barely support their own weight are less than five months old. No wonder they couldn’t vocalize properly.

Poor things. I sense they’re being bred for the Christmas celebrations and relish the prospect of running a knife across their necks sometime later in the season. Walking away with my bruised pawpaw I file the thought away