Wednesday, September 29, 2010
All we are. song playing in my head.
so i'm terrible with typing. i write better. With typing i just get bored, deleting all i've written without giving myself a chance to string my words together. In my head. 'in the end words won't matter" he says and do they? i write all i will. i want what i need still, all i am eludes me. "in the end dreams just scatter. Broken pieces surround me, evidence of the dreams of great men. What is to become of me? Such a sad song , probably why i can't get it out of my head.
Away with sad thoughts, I've been busy, six weeks in IGBO ORA and yes, I'm certain i'm not inclined to live in the village. so sue me!
Lived in the hospital complex in the accomodation for students so there was water, hostels reminiscent of secondary school and though the gods of phcn saw it fit to bestow power 2 hours a day, the generator was on from 7pm till 12am.The food when it was good, was lovely but when bad, terrible.
All in all was not a bad experience but i have no intention of visiting anytime soon. six years in a boarding school is enough, thank you very much.
Village life; Simple way of life, tough way of achieving the simple life.case study ayete community, population 45000, majority farmers.True, the only concession to technology is the cell phone and everyone is content with growing yam(50 naira per piece). But with that, how do you avoid being cheated? Good afternoon ma, i'm a student doctor from the teaching hospital, carrying out a study on bla bla bla. All spoken in flawless yoruba and it's all smiles. Doctor! go and get a chair for doctor and even without the introduction, the white coat itself speaks volumes when kids on the streets stare at you as you walk round their community laden by rolls of paper, your questionnaire. Hah! the other one says. some people have been coming over the years. they took blood from us and promised us drugs. what will you do for us? it''s the same thing over and over, no education for a person and you're cheated over your birthright. 'who took samples from you, why would you give out any. did you obtain identification. for what condition were u investigated. they're illiterate and do not know better. So here's for u doctor, infringing on their rights. do u think yourself learned. aren't u taking advantage?
The village people were very trusting,answering the questionnaire with no hesitation, they'd even offer stuff before you leave. i was given groundnut, a handful, plus lots of prayers, a bunch of banana and even fufu by one. may you finish your studies my child. a lot prayed.
In some ways i envied them their lifestyle, homes within homes, communities within communities. everything they had, they shared and clans of families shared the same abode. however the fact that i envy them does not necessarily mean i can live like that. In this age, few can. Thumbs up to the wives who live that way, they have nothing else to compare with and are content.
Twinning; Igbo ora has the highest twinning rate of any individual community, the villagers attribute it to ilasa, a kind of vegetable our own version of Egusi. Though still not medically proven, my physiology prof attributes it to their yam. Ate loads of that stuff and spoke deep yoruba. Still, my passable yoruba was not fluent enough to translate our questionnaire Take for instance, cancer is called jejere.i learnt that in Igbo ora. And the hills, the best part of distributing questionnaires was the journey to Ayete itself. Ayete of the hilly terrain, our roller coaster of ups and downs with hands in the air shouting wheee!
The village experience made me remember a lot of things i'd forgotten from my pseudo-village experience from vacations to my grandmothers. The sight of children wearing only panties, the evening abe igi consult where eveyone had something to say about something, locally made candy of burnt sugar sold in plain nylon and in rows but best of all, the local plastic doll i found when braiding my hair (yes, i braided my hair by putting my head under iya lasisi's tenthday unwashed yeri. okay i'm kidding! those days, i almost suffocated from the stench of that woman's underwear, the price to pay for beauty. i swear, that woman contributed to my decision to cut my hair!
Anyways, my friend Ovoke saw this picture and exclaimed. "Sola, what is this sigidi you've snapped on your phone". she had me in stitches, seriously!
Abe igi, under the tree
sigidi; a statue worshipped as an idol.