NOSTALGIA 2.0

Continued from yesterday's post.
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I miss the good old days.

Sunday morning moments when I would drench my flowery Tshirt in daddy's perfume with the sole interest of impressing the teenage girls at RCCG Cornerstone parish.
Offering little smiles while sitting at the back of the class with Wale, Kunle, Ayo Kataina and Olumide Bankole.
A group of five boys who the messages centered on Holiness never seemed to penetrate their thick heads.
For those heads were always scheming, always picking and always crafting the best opening lines that would bring down the 'Jericho-like' defenses of each girl.
Maybe I should thank God that most of our efforts were in vain.
For such failed attempts steered us away from eating the forbidden fruit which is meant for only couples.

I miss the good old days.

Moments I would trash, kick and scream all the way to school at my first years in Ijagbo and Maranata nursery.
Then later settling down to the enjoyable class session of; 'A for Apple, B for Boli, sorry Ball, C for Cat, D for Davido, sorry Dog (lord knows the music industry was still sane at this time)'

Aye.

Those class sessions were so enjoyable that I would be reluctant to leave the class when mama indicated that it was time to leave.

Thank God for those moments.
For it was a major lession that unsavory beginnings may later yield to great endings.

I miss the good old days.

Moments when all students would line up class by class on the assembly ground;

Primary 5A boys taunting primary 5B boys about the defeat they experienced in a football match the day before;

Mr. Alli, Mr. Alonge and Mr. Edetan at the corner discussing about the latest regulations which Union Bank Ibolo was putting them through in order to collect their salaries;

Mrs. Egunjobi, Mummy French, Mummy Ilori (mother to the beautiful Fade who had to be forced to eat meat in class) all standing with canes in their hands, and discussing the best Aso oke to be worn to the 'ikomo' (naming ceremony) of Mr. Opeyemi's child;

The headmaster, Mr. Asiedu and headmistress, Mrs. Popoola both standing in front of the students, and teaching them values of neatness, brushing of teeth and reading of books;

The children would be shouting on top of their lungs while singing, 'We are H-A-P-P-Y 2x', 'Mr Marcaroni riding on a bicycle, if you want to marry me, Mr Marcaroni', and 'Wherever you go (go go gon go) wherever you be (sisi eko) you don't say yes when you mean to say no (Baba Ibadan!)'

Arrrgrrhhh
Thank God for those moments.
For, imbued within them were seeds of comradeship and love which have lasted through the years.

I miss the good old days.

'Igbà Awe (time of Ramadan) early mornings when the sound of pounding would be heard from Alhaji Oyinlola's storey building.

A pounding of 'iyan' which would be accompanied by the hunger inducing wonderful smell that originated from Alhaja's pot of egusi.

I also miss the 'igba ileya (ileya sallah period).

When uncle Mojeed and uncle Shehu would drag the unwilling agbo (ram) to the backyard, slaughter it and put it fire to remove the hair like feathers being removed from a chicken.

Then, my favourite crew of Aunty Fehintola, aunty Ramat and Alhaja would take over.
Frying the boiled huge chunks of meat in the sizzling hot oil and over the firewood which burned out quickly.

Then my eyes would behold the same film scene that brought great joy to my heart every year;

Alhaja moving gingerly; step by step; adjusting her shawl with her left hand while carrying a huge cooler on her right; knocking 'ko ko ko' at our iron door; gently shouting 'Halo o, alaafia fun on ile o'; mummy coming out with a kitchen spoon in her hand and flashing a perfect set of teeth; mummy replying 'alaafia fun alejo o'; mummy collecting the cooler with a big smile; mummy COLLECTING the cooler with a big smile (for emphasis sake); mummy saying 'Barka de sallah, opolopo odun ni a ma se o; Alhaja retreating while telling mommy to greet Doctor, my dad; mummy dropping the cooler on the dining table while returning to the kitchen; and then me tiptoeing to the cooler to remove one fried meat to taste.

Thank God for those moments.
For they were the times which united all humans into a family even though we worshipped differently.
Those unique moments when all that mattered was the fact that you were celebrating good life and health with your neighbor.

Now the tables seem to have turned,
As some con men mascurading as pastors and charlatans mascurading as imam now preach that adherents of both religions should not even sit at the same place.

A message of hate which tears our world apart and transforms the hearers into loveless beasts who are constantly self seeking.

To be continued at another season
#BASHORUN

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Ugo chara acha adịghị echu echu.
– A mature eagle never fades