Faces

I’m worried my village will be a different place when I come back. It’s been a while since I left, and I wonder what has changed.

I daydreamed on the bus as it sped down the hill. Palm trees streaked past, and I lost count. The clouds seemed to change with each turn, but the evening still felt far away. At a junction, there was a hold-up, and traffic became congested. I saw hawkers display their wares on the asphalt roads. Men, women, girls, and boys—all hustling to make ends meet. By the junction, some security men stood watching. The hot sun shone down on their faces. I saw a couple of them holding handkerchiefs, sighing into the air, and trying to wipe the sweat from their brows. I was distracted by a girl about 14 years old who walked past my window.

“Plantain. Plantain. Buy fried plantain,” she said. Her voice was like that of a singer, and I bet she could sing. She pronounced plantain as ‘planting.’ If I hadn’t seen her tray full of fried yellow plantain, I could have sworn she was selling something else. She held her tray firmly, and her unkempt hair was tied in a ponytail. She was unsmiling. As I examined her face, I noticed the tribal marks and the dried tears near her eyes. I sighed softly.

“Kei, how much for the fried plantains?”

“It’s only N100, sir,” the pretty girl who should have been in school replied. I decided to buy snacks from her as she caught my gaze. Looking into her eyes, I understood her story. Her eyes revealed everything. I couldn’t say a word of sympathy, but I could at least buy her plantains. That’s the support I can give, for now.

“Okay, give me two, please. Thanks.”

She hurriedly set her tray down and took out a black nylon bag. She was about to give me the bag when the bus started moving. She left her tray and chased after the bus, running as fast as her little legs could go. When I grabbed the bag, I threw her cash out of the window and felt relieved when I saw her pick it up. I silently said goodbye and continued to enjoy my snack.

Almost Time

I miss my village. It’s the most delightful place on Earth. Hills surround it, and streams fall from rocks. It has lush greenery and exotic wildlife. Now that the dry season is beginning, it creates a unique scene. I always go back home to escape the stress of town. I wake up in the morning to the sound of birds, some of whom are bold enough to bother my window. Flies, wasps, and bees buzz together in a lively dance, and the garden feels like a magical world of its own. I observe the insects and plants that thrive in the garden. It’s filled with chili, tomatoes, and all kinds of vegetables. Fruit trees also take up a lot of space. Overall, the garden has become my personal paradise. Up in the trees, my squirrel friends, whom I’ve known since childhood, play around. Three guava trees grow in front of the yard; I planted them, though I’ve forgotten the nicknames I gave them. A variety of spinach, moringa, and scent leaves flourish in the front yard. The aroma of life in this place is truly inviting.

My cousins are my favorite entertainers; they won’t leave me alone. They keep me updated on events that happen while I’m away. I live in the moment with them. We watch the breathtaking sunset together. Even without my village, I can imagine myself standing on the hills watching the sun move across the sky. It’s an incredible experience I can never get tired of.

Indeed, the rains have ended, and the harmattan season is about to begin. It’s almost time to see people’s true faces. Sometimes I see my reflection in these faces, and I have come to understand that life is a mirror.

It’s almost that time of year when I see people’s true faces and the real aspects of life.