Village boy Impressions

From the east, a golden-sun  rises proud and majestic, Shining in all brilliance and delight. His rays strike with fierce-some joy Upon the bare brown earth, with Not a cloud in the heavens to stay them. Energy gushes forth in torrents, Birds, beasts, gods, and mortals Glow with vigour and intent . The Drums sound, the flutes call, The birds chirp, the doves coo, Goats and sheep, rams and bulls Bleat and moo in joyous ecstasy. Kids and calves bray and fray  Smoke rises from cooking places. It is Feok! A hallowed day, a merry day; Bubbly with contentment and laughter. Today we drink, and we eat, We celebrate and  make merry And dance with grace and skill The rhythm of our land. Like one mighty beating heart, The land throbs with graceful steps. The hills ring with voices of song As we recall the valour and skill, The courage and strength, And the charity of our fathers, Who rose against the cowardly Babatu an d h...

Photo Credit: Franz Kröger Weeding the fields couldn't be more delightful!  Though backs are breaking in the noonday heat,  Palms blistering from gripping rigid hoe sticks,  Sweat trickling down the groins of labouring kinsmen,  And all their muscles are taut with effort,  The smell of dark loamy earth freshly upturned  Releases a singing trapped in the lungs of men.  Have you read:  Village Boy Impressions - The Matrimonial Dance The thrill of music banishes all weariness  And even the weakest muscle would gain  Momentum to break the moist earth with iron  Whilst hearts throb with the harmonious choruses;  Hymns that at once inspire, admonish, and entertain.  Chanting the village news as well as the secrets of men,  One is forced to pay as much heed as to work harder.  Every drop of gin sent coursing into half-empty bellies Lends leverage to even unwilling tongues And the sweetness of...

Children dancing 'Nagela' in front of a compound. Photo Credit: Franz Kröger ( buluk.de ) When the harvest is all done and dusted  And the fields lie empty and desolate When the groundnuts are all plucked The Bambara beans dug up roots and all When all the sorghum in the field is felled And only sharp prickly remnants remain When tethering the goats is now ended And the boys gain such a relief As to sigh with gratitude bordering on piety Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Tethering Goats When the shepherds no more chase the sheep The cowherds no longer shout at errant bulls And the moon is happy enough To make the cripple hungry for a walk, Do we nightly gather before the house; Mothers, fathers, uncles, and aunts, Teens, children, toddlers and babies Brothers, sisters, nephews, and nieces With cousins, bastards and orphans too. There we tell many a tale and laugh Unrestrained juvenile squealing That rouses the sleeping chickens and ducks. ...

Photo Credit: Franz Kröger All over the land of Buluk, over hills and fields  Where long grass grows and stout trees thrive   The trade wind comes racing, swelling about the trees   What news from the north, Oh hurrying wind?   What tidings do you bear in your dusty breeze?   Have you seen Azantilow the tall and mighty   By sun, moon or by starlight bright?   Where now is he, the bold, the ancient, the brave?   Maybe you have heard the horn of the son of  Ayieta.   Echoing in the hills and vales of the land Upon azagsuk , long I stood and listened Under the shade of acham I tarried in vain Tell me not that he is no more! But alas, his horn is silent, and his feet are cold The north wind is still, impotent with tears                             Read:  Village Boy Impressions - The Song of Atug...

       Adan-leeeeeeeeeee! The song cut through the waves of the windy December night. Mother hushes the children as we scramble to the rooftops; straining our ears to hear the song and the news. It is a nuptial announcement But the song sounds faint and far as the gentle harmattan breeze carries the evening voices away. We hush up in fear of missing the name of the newly married man. His father’s father’s name in fact!      The whole house is soundless and still  Awaiting the breeze and the voices To bring home the glad tidings Of the young man who has attained The noble feat of marriage. Excitement looms, hearts skip faster And then acclaim and applause As the breeze turns our way! Names of the great-great grandfathers of the groom are mentioned in song and their appellations are intoned joyfully Poking fun and mockery at competitors Who are told to go and clear farmlands having lost the race to ...

There was an old man in my village who didn’t like to be greeted “Saliu’wa?” (Good morning?), or for that matter good afternoon, or good evening. He preferred to be greeted in the traditional exchange which entail a recital of enquiries about a person’s health, and that of their spouse, children, siblings, parents, other relatives and even neighbours. As children, we took delight in arousing his anger by shouting “saliu’wa!” at him from a distance before we took to our heels and run for dear life.

Along the main path from the market  A happy troupe of youth stream by  With a prized possession in tow  Amid   excited chatter  enchanting tunes  That pierce the moonlit night  Far and long with a message of hope; A nuptial announcement. 'The great great great grandson Of back into legendary ancestors Has married his sweetheart!' Says the song. Women mount their rooftops  To ululate the singing party  Wayeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiii!!!. Read: Village Boy Impressions -   My Sugar Runs Out Often, the enchanting tunes and ululations  Are lost upon one member of the party  The tear-stained  sobbing bride;  The bitter-sweetheart! This teary companion  is  carried,  dragged, or pushed along  Angry, pained, helpless, and wearied.  An unwilling bride treading resentfully  With frequent loud shrieks and sobs  Oblivious of  the excitement  Of her exultant abductors...