THE GOOD WE’VE LEFT BEHIND AND THE AGONIES WE’VE HOLD ONTO: A NIGHTMARE IN A DREAM
I was woken at dawn by this terrible nightmare. A nightmare that struck me by the head and left me nearing my ancestral call. I was taken aboard into the heavenly land of no return.
Standing in the middle of my cross-sectional dream, I have being carried on a winter’s tale to a land where my very bones are heard knocking against it flesh. I am dazed and in a suspensive tripod flames.
I have come into a notification drum beats, and having being asked my mission to such a far land, many were the voices that sought for what was hidden in my head. Then I saw this particular face like the old man who lived in my village fifteen years ago. His voice was not that strange, but the tempo was quite not what I used to know.
Then a high priest dressed like a soldier from the second batalion infantry touched my forehead with a stick wrapped with a python’s skin. Here, my unconsciousness died out, and gave birth to an unalloyed consciousness.
My journey to this far land of the dead of a paradise had resulted from my thoughts about the pains killing the brave men of our society leaving us in the pool of the why. The mortal remains of the great men in our society displayed on hot saturday afternoon have left me to wallow in my thoughts to this far.
The sound of a calabash skiding was heard from a distance. Before I could say, wink, there was the sweetest palm wine at my feet calling out loud for my tongue for a taste. Little did I know that the calling for my tongue was to sip from the ancestral calabash of wisdom.
All I could say were still not even heard by the walls of the dark I had being engulfed in. The speech of one brave warrior who recounted how they had lived here on the land of the living was all that rocked the flows in my mind.
I couldn’t disagree with the discussions on-going, so I sent my thoughts and recollections across….
Those were the days when we used to walk the dew at dawn to catch the morning farms. Those were the early mornings we woke to our feet with barely nothing to think about with the exception of our journey to the farms.
The journey sometimes was thrilling and fanciful. On our way, we held long chewing sticks in our mouths. We chewed and chewed until the end becomes that of a fufu pistle. With this, we brushed the corners and walls of our teeth until no particle of decay was found within our molars.
Those were the times where after weeding for more than four hours, we would move on our wings like the birds seduced by the conspicuous colour of the corolla. There, we would enjoy the nutritiousness of our ‘ampesi’ and ‘abom’ on washed fresh plantain leaves without the threat of a sauspan made of aluminium.
We couldn’t hesitate any longer, but rush to the fresh streams from the rocks meandering under the big ‘oyina’ tree to enjoy the refreshing taste of it cool waters. With no cups of rubber nor silver, but with the comfort of the leaves we will drink to the full of our stomach sweeping the fallen leaves that medicated and purified the water side-by-side.
We would lie supine under the shade of the shade of the farm thinking out loud about how we have worked hard to the desires of our hearts. When evening has come in her majesty, we would jump into the river passing by to clean our body of it sweat and dirt, and to satisfy our hardworked souls the comfort the rivers cool moments.
In fact, those were the days of our own “Garden of Eden”. Everything indeed seemed to please mother nature. Humans were indeed living the dreams of nature. Everything was natural. We less worried about disease or pre-mature death.
Times change, days are born into years and minutes into hours. Things haven’t been the same as it used to be. Technology have taking over our lives and the elements of modernism permeating our very living. We have changed our lifestyles to suit what they call “modern world” born out of a village called global.
A village where the globe is made one with the trending fate. Our beliefs have changed and our souls have being married to the agonies of the day. We’ve clinged on to the woes of modernism. Despite the selling of ourselves to eaten the best of what we call ‘fast foods’, fat meat and all the luxuries of what make life’s comfort . Despite our embracing of orthodox modalities and methodologies, we are still embattling the dreadiest of diseases, chronic poverty, the canker of injustice and inequality which we are yet to find a lasting cure.
Indeed, we are suffering from what we seem making endless yet futile efforts to salvage. In fact, our days of our “Garden of Eden” and the true treat of nature is no more. We’ve hold onto the very things worsening our woes and troubles. Our days are surely numbered, methink.