Copyright © 2016 by Tee Chudley
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.


What are little girls made of?
Sugar and spice, and all things nice.


Its not just me. Every kid in our hamlet does it. Probably, every kid in the world. After our 30 naira dunlop slippers are well worn and torn, we would make a music box out of it, by cutting out a compartment, and looking for the biggest "tiun tiun" to put inside. Those melodious insects will sing and make your day till they die. Iya elewe warned me times a million, to refrain from playing with those insects, but I never listened.

Maybe, if she had told me how they could crawl up your ear drums if you put the music slipper by your side while u slept, I would have listened to her. But these adults are all... Don't do this, don't do that... All instructions, no reason. Makes u more curious.

So, I woke up that morning, shredding the palmfronds I gathered the day before. I had spread them in the sun, to rid them of their moisture so as to make my broom-making work easier. Later, I would gather the finely carved spines, after they were completely dried, and sell them at oke Bola.

But one minute, I was making brooms, and the next minute I was lying on my back, with Iya Elewe's huge bosom grazing my fore head. Her voice trembled as she called my name...
"jolaade ajoke, please don't die..."
Her voice was all shades of scared, I was scared too.
"mama mi, mii tii kuu" I cried!

I later learned "tiun tiun" had creeped up my ears and nearly killed me, but thank God iya elewe had herbs that could cure me. True, my left ear was dripping of what seemed like palm oil and something grainy. I was extremely grateful to God for my life.

But that was 30 years ago, and now that I think about it... Could an ear infection have made me lose consciousness? Couldn't it have been the sun that licked off the last bits of consciousness my hungry body could muster? And could I have died from an ear infection?

But there were many unanswered questions. Our childhood wasn't right, but we survived.

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Cakes of concealer plastered on my face make me feel like a clown readied for a circus bit. Its a new world for me and so while the set designer and make up artist fly up and down trying to make it all perfect I let my short life flash yet again. I beckoned on my P.A to get me a cup of cocoa while I enjoyed my reverie. But Biola says I can't have cocoa, because it would mess up my make up, and we don't want that.

"Nobody tell me when to have cocoa" I called out after her petite body walking away from me.
"I grew up on a cocoa farm. You can't take that away from me... I picked up cocoa pods and-" she cut in, knowing exactly what I would say next-

"Got tipsy from fermented cocoa beans while picking and parking?" She finished saying "me thinks the lady protests too much" and handed me my cup of cocoa.

Biola makes me laugh. She's my best friend. But she doesn't get it. I'm trying so hard to hold on to humble beginnings while getting used to all this posh and pazzaz.

How did we get here? Just a few years ago I was getting raped by the railway tracks and now I'm a celebrity artist about to give an interview.
My attachment to cocoa is Psychological. I don't want to forget where I came from.

************************

My mother named me sorrow when she left my father. The cocoa research institute was shutting down and they no longer had any need for Father's security services. The moment things started getting tough, she picked up her bags and left with Soldier man Balogun in his jalopy Volkswagen. She left all four of us behind, to rough it with our father.

My father named me pain when he got remarried to the worst woman in the world.

I am the third of four kids but I questioned everything. I questioned her authority and wouldn't accept her. She beat me so bad one day, I fell into one of the worst fainting spells I have ever had. I was out for two days. I woke up to the smell of antiseptic, and watched glucose trickle down my blood stream from the drip that hung over my head.
I was bundled to Iya Elewe immediately I got discharged and that's where I spent a better part of my childhood.

Iya Elewe is my grand mother. The day I passed out while making broomsticks in front of our yard, she promised it would be the last time. She called out two teenagers working at baales cocoa farm for help.

They held me down while she marked my face with a carving knife. She cured the thick hideous strokes with black powder that stung. When Iya Elewe was through, she felt proud of herself, and said rest assuredly that my spirit would not leave my body again. But she was wrong. I was only 10 years old and all she had done, was scar me for life.

Living in the village as opposed to town life was peaceful for me as a child. My school was only a few short kilometres away from home, and I didn't break my back washing "aso giran" that my step mother never seemed to run out of.

My grand mother Iya Elewe was the baale's first wife and the best healer you could find that will not prescribe chalk and injections. She knew every herb for every kind of ailment, and she knew every tree bark, every leaf by name.
We were treated like royalty even though I still feel pangs of hunger. Anything apart from my step mother was royalty.
Sometimes, I wondered how my siblings were doing. I was too young to care too much anyways.

Iya Elewe told me I was special. She said my fainting spells were no ordinary fits and that I was a direct descendant of a spirit.
She told me the spirit gives all of his children one gift.

"You will always faint until you discover the gift you have because the spirit will always fight to be free" She said, finishing with a dimpled smile. I was only ten years old. I couldn't really understand. All I could think of was why had she given me tribal marks when she knew what the problem was?

"How will I get cured?" I asked eagerly
I was hoping she would send me out first thing in the morning to collect one or two leaves that were yet to shed the morning dew.

"There is no cure until you discover your gift. Look at me. I am a healer" she said, laughing at my ignorance.

"But I don't want it. Who is the spirit that gave it to me?" I asked.

I watched her mould fufu with her wooden spatula with expertise. I wondered if that was also part of the spiritual gift. No one moulds okele like Iya elewe. It was always well rounded and with no dimples, lumps or mis shapen edges.

Fufu and water leaf was for dinner. I knew it because I plucked the leaves on my way from the market. I also saw her washing the tiny snails we dried out last week. My mouth watered. I could hear her sweet solemn voice saying something about the river that borders the whole village.

**********

I didn't remember what Iya Elewe told me about the river that night. I went to bed contented. I was lucky to find many bits of dried fish in my soup. I know it must have been my grand mothers doing. She favors me a lot. Well, in exchange for a lot of hardwork.

Very early the next morning while the dew still falls, and you could taste the wetness in the air, I was out alongside Iya Kudi's last daughter Ranti. Even though Ranti was my agemate, and we attend the same school, her mother was also baales wife just like my grand mother.

You could hear our foot falls "Pata. Pata. Pata" as we hurried towards the river. They say the early bird catches the worm. But in this village, we say the early bird catches clean water.

We had our baths and played around a little downriver then filled our clay pots where the water was cleanest. There were very few people out and about at the time. It was the best time to fetch drinking water.

Do you know teak? Of course you do know teak. Its possible all the doors in your home are made out of a sound teak. But have you seen the tree?
A good teak tree grows on upward like NEPA pole with no branches close to the ground for climbers to delight in. Close to the top, you could see flimsy "pankere" looking branches sneaking out bearing a couple of leaves

I was correcting Ranti that "begin dey go" was not correct. Our English teacher would be furious if she said that in class and quite frankly I was proud of myself for being one of the few who had great aptitude for the language.

As we approached the foot path that links to the next hamlet, something caught my eye far away on a tall teak. A big burst of white light flashed brightly like brisco fireworks. It was blinding and while we tried to figure out the source, it ran all the way down like... If the sun was a foot ball and it was falling from a teak tree. Then it bounced way back up, stayed put for a few seconds and then went off like nothing happened.

Ranti read my mind immediately. We flung our clay pots at the same time, and ran all the way home without stopping for once to catch our breath.
"Oro ni. We saw Oro" ranti gasped, fought to catch her breath, fought to explain before earning one hot slap from her mother for breaking another clay pot.

"Oro nibo?" All the adults were baffled. There's no way they would believe we saw a spirit looking like a ball of white light.
I felt it but before I could fight it, I was on the floor, a slave to another fainting spell.

you've done a great work. will spiced, decriptive and narrative. you are a great writer teechudley. your diary has taught me a lot. be strong and you'll always maintain your head above the waters.

Thanks xtranoble. I try my best

Hello everyone. Sorry but someone using a blackberry just attempted to get into my Nairaland acct. I'm not familiar with this forum or why this means hence... I'm deactivating this acct. Good bye all... Its been a fun run. I might reopen a new acct tho. Dunno what else to do.

Hello everyone. Sorry but someone using a blackberry just attempted to get into my Nairaland acct. I'm not familiar with this forum or why this means hence... I'm deactivating this acct. Good bye all... Its been a fun run. I might reopen a new acct tho. Dunno what else to do.

Hey!! Take a chill pill
Not so soon

Could be a random error or better still to be safe, change your password to a stronger one.

Ooops!! She already deactivated