It has been 12 years since I last went to the village, and surely I did not fail to express my dissatisfaction when my dad asked that we go to the village with him during the summer vacation. My younger sister, Beatrice, aged 11, was excited even though she had never been to the village. The more inquisitive she got about the village trip, the more irritated I became. I was 17 years old and looked forward to college in a few months.
"Can you stop asking questions about the village and cut me some slack? There’s hardly anything interesting about it!" The irritated me blurted it out, causing Beatrice to mute and frown at the same time.
"Daddy told me I'd love it in the village, and likewise my teacher in school." Beatrice replied, nodding her head sideways and pouting her mouth.
"I’ll laugh at you, darling sister; you have been lied to." I said it with a tone of sarcasm. "Anyways, we have cousins there that’ll keep our company. I’m sure the one week vacation will be over in no time, and we can all have our lives back.
"David? Is your bag packed? Remember to help out with your sister’s box also." My dad spoke from his room. His wife, my mom, had died during Beatrice’s childbirth, and ever since, my dad has played the role of both parents. My dad has an average income, and even though he could not afford to have us admitted into schools, he certainly ensured he enrolled us in one of the best public schools. My sister, he said, reminds him of his late wife, and I equally ensured I played the role of guardian and friend to her.
My dad was in his early fifties, a civil servant, and down to earth. While growing up, I wondered why he chose not to remarry despite having a good-looking and charming physique and a fairly comfortable home. In a way, I admired him and liked the fact that all he cared for was my sister and me. Dad told us to accompany him to the village, as it would afford us the opportunity to identify with our relatives and extended family.
After a 7-hour journey by road in my dad’s Honda Salon car, creaking and enduring the bad state of Nigerian roads, we arrived at the village community on Saturday evening. The settlement was located on an uphill slope with many rocks surrounding it. Most of the houses were huts and mud houses, while a few countable ones were made of bricks. We were lodged at my Uncle’s house, and thankfully, it was a brick house, though I could have looked with disgust if I was offered such an abode in the city I grew up in. That very night, I ate to my full the wheat flour served by my Uncle’s wife, who was all smiles and accommodating, and surely, the voracious mosquitoes gladly visited to have their feast on the fresh and city blood that arrived. When we retired to the soft and old mattress provided for us to sleep, I made sure my sister was well covered to prevent the numerous bites from the mosquitoes. I kept pacing and clapping intermittently to kill those mosquitoes that sang uninvited music to my ears, wondering how my relatives slept in such a terrifying atmosphere. That night was particularly long, as I wished the day would hasten to break.
The following days seemed less traumatic as I got to relate with my extended family and made a couple of friends, but I did not fail to keep an eye on my sister (I was her guardian anyways). My dad busied himself visiting old friends and family and attending some community functions, which was the major reason he dragged us to the village for company, and he equally had a similar gesture returned whenever he was home as many people trooped in to greet him. My interest began to pick up gradually in life in the village, and I opened up gradually to my cousins and other relatives, finding them amusing. Aaron, one of my cousins, had taken me to his farm, and I enjoyed the view of his large expanse of rice fields.
"You mean all this rice farm is yours?" I asked, awed at the sight of the farm. I wondered how a young boy who happened to be in my age group could afford such "It seems I would visit often and perhaps see how I can also invest in farming." I said, tapping his left shoulder.
"Farming is our primary trade and lifestyle. Most of our foods are equally cheap, as we rely heavily on what we grow. You should see our market day tomorrow; people from neighboring communities come around to buy and sell."
"I bet they will; if only I can get some of the farm produce to the city, I’m certain we’ll make considerable gains." I replied as we walked around his farmland.
The following day, I was surprised at how full the market was. The market was located in the center of the village, and the many empty wooden tables and stools were occupied by various goods; some were brought from other communities and the city, while most of the food produce were those to be sold to traders from outside. Aaron was kind enough to take me around the market, and I appreciated how cheap the items were. I made certain I bought a bracelet for my sister, whom I had left with my other female cousins. The market closed by evening, and gradually traders dispersed; some needed to travel back to where they came from.
Aaron and I left the market early enough, for we had to fetch water from the stream close by. He bought me fried yam with sauce, which I reluctantly accepted, being careful not to upset my abdomen with any food for which I was not certain of its source or mode of preparation. Aaron had previously refused that I follow him to fetch water from the stream, but he eventually gave up when he realized I would not take a no for an answer, and likewise, we enjoyed each other’s company. As the sun began to withdraw to its shelter on the distant horizon, we kept our water jars by the shore, as well as the fried yam sauce Aaron bought for me. The season was for cashews, and I wanted to pluck enough to take back to the city the next day. Aaron did the climbing of the tree while I offered moral support and served as the director for the ripened fruits. Right before dusk to pick our water jars, I sighted a seagull greedily and scantily devouring my yam sauce.
"Is that a seagull ravaging my food?" I asked, hastening my steps closer for a better view.
"Yes, I should have mentioned that to you earlier; they’re common in our environment and would readily feast on any food in sight." Aaron replied, giving out a mild chuckle as the bird flew up and away, scared by our approaching presence. Sure, it had eaten a chunk of the yam and sauce, making it unappealing and unfit for consumption. I had only read about seagulls in books and on the internet, but seeing them made me more inquisitive, and Aaron was very helpful in telling me more about them.
Quickly, we picked up our water jars and a few plucked cashews and headed home as dusk was heavy upon us and I had a journey to embark on the following day back to the city. I never thought that I would enjoy my stay at the village, but it was one beautiful experience that I looked forward to having again soon.