A weekend in an African village

by Thomas Adejoh (Nigeria)

A leap into the unknown Nigeria

My friend, Chori, was born and bred in a village somewhere in southern Kaduna, and hailed from one of the over 250 distinct people groups of Nigeria. His community is the typically rural African with neither pipe-borne water nor modern amenities. Located almost 200 km away from Kaduna, the capital city, its landscape is doted by low mountain ranges and hoofs-troubled, dirty brown rivers that irrigated crops and satiated both livestock and mortals. The major road that coursed through his community is narrow, dusty, stony, windy. It was often bereft of vehicles, except on market days that occurred every other 4th day. The agrarian community is inhabited by Christians with nomadic Fulani Muslims camping on its outskirts. Common language is Hausa. Cocooned away from Kaduna, the capital city and its influence, Nature offered the inhabitants wildlife and a communal brotherhood that made the village more treasured than the most alluring city. Chori had the benefit of a classroom education that didn’t improve his English speaking and writing abilities. He also still believed that the earth was flat. That dark, petite, tame, 20-year old son of a widow understood his ecosystem well. By looking at patterns on footpaths he could tell if a snake, rabbit or some wildlife had coursed through. What he couldn't decipher from imprints, he got from droppings or by sniffing. He could tell from chirping, which winged stock it was. He feared no scorpion, snake or forest. In sharp contrast to Chori, I was a city boy who knew little about wildlife. Although we were age mates, he was shorter. His church sent him to represent them in a Christian youth camp meeting somewhere outside his village. I was there too in my personal capacity as an idle youth. I was attracted to Chori’s Alice-in-wonderland askance demeanour. He turned out to be an interesting guy who regaled me with adventurous escapades. In his nice nature, he invited me over. I gladly accepted. I barbed my hair to the skin to minimize dust settling in. On a Friday, I arrived the village enthusiastically, to the warm embrace of his mum and younger siblings. My 3-day plan was to laze about the village deriving pleasure from watching people and nature. Never in my widest imagination did I know that it was a leap into the unknown. On Saturday, pronto, we were on the family’ cassava farmland to weed. About an hour later, the weather turned gloomy. Then, there was that persistent humming sound in the distance that increased in frenzy each second. I stood up and asked, "Chori, what is going on?" He stood up to observe and suddenly yelled, "Honey! Honey! Honey!" He was running away as he yelled. I was confused. "Honey? Where?" I watched as he dived headlong inside ridges and screamed at me, gesticulating, "Fall down, fall down." My confusing increased. As I pondered on my host’s erratic behavior, suddenly I was attacked by a large colony of bees which started settling on my gorimakpa (clean-shaven) head. Screaming and running helter skelter on the farmland, the bees gave a swift, hot pursuit and kissed my head with hundreds of stings. Seeing that they were unrelenting, I called out fearfully and tearfully to my friend, "Chori, these bees go kill me ooo." "Fall down. No run. Stop run. Fall down." Then I understood what he meant and dived downwards. Surprisingly, the huge colony bade me farewell and settled on a dwarfism tree about 10 m away. They kept humming. Chori called out, "Stand up, make we go house." "Chori, if they see us won't they pursue us?" "No. Dem don siddon, no more bite." We stood up, picked up our hoes and cutlasses and headed back to the village. On the way, I scolded my friend, "Chori, that thing you called 'honey,' please it is called bees.'" "No vex. I no know im name." "Then, do not say, 'fall down' again. Say instead, 'lie down.'" "I sorry for the honey wey bite you. Sorry plenty...” It was a visit that never had an encore. Indeed, I leaped into the unknown accepting an invitation to visit a typical African village.