When I tell people I grew up in the village, they hardly ever believe me. I guess I’m just too tush (•^_^•). But it wasn’t easy getting to this point o! I can’t even relate to how long and how hard I’ve been working on my accent and behaviour and all that other stuff that makes people cool.
Anyhu, I had to go fetch water from the well today so I could take a bath. Yes, a well. We do not have running water because the inhabitants of the flat that houses the switch for the pump decided they don’t want to be the ones pumping water with their own electricity anymore. So, yeah. No water. Anyway, I was fetching water and I thought back to being in the village.
The family compound was fairly big, and we had a well behind as well. As part of my “training”, I was constantly made to fetch water for one thing or the other, so I got quite used to it. Only problem was it was high, and I was not so tall, so I had to climb up to the top to be able to drop the bucket in and pull it out. I almost fell in too many times to remember. Have you ever fallen into a well? What do you imagine it would be like if you happened to fall in and you were stuck there for a while because no one was around to help?
We had a party once. Well, we were always having parties (burials, and weddings and such), but this was a party especially for the kids. We put a tape in the radio and had drinks and abacha and danced around while our parents and grandfather watched and cheered. I remember it was really fun. I always loved spending time with my cousins. Except they were fond of doing mean stuff. Like one time they put that sparky stick thingy in my hair. I was really upset, because my hair was really pretty. They made up for it by helping me put a stick of banga in my uncle’s shoe (•^_^•)
There was a white family that lived not too far away from us. They always let me come over and play because I was albino and they probably thought I was the only one there they could relate too. Their house was huge and they had a bull. I hated the ugly thing. It chased me once, and I tripped and tore my favourite skirt. I disliked skirts even more after that. The white girl was really fun, I think. Honestly, I don’t remember much about her. Her parents never let her leave the house with me though.
*sigh* On cool nights, we would go outside and sit on mats and tell stories. The tortoise stories were always my favourite. I still love them. I laugh every time I think about one. Sometimes, I try to make up one of my own. It’s really fun, but then I never get really far. I miss those nights. I wish I could have more of them. Just sitting or lying under the evening sky, talking and laughing about little infantile things.
We used to play games as well. Just basic hand and feet games. Nothing like hide n seek because hiding places were limited. And we only had a few minutes between chores.
Now, I can’t stand to be in my village because “I’ve grown up” and “I’m now a big girl.”. I miss it though. Will probably go visit soon. Hopefully it’s a burial. I miss burial rice.