Memories
Most traditional pots in Igboland are made from moulded clay dried in kilns. In times past, the Igbo society is well known for pottery. Water collected from streams and springs is fed into the big pot. So through the night, the clay pot makes the water chill. In the morning, a cup of water from this ancient invention soothes. I’m yet to comprehend the ingenuity displayed in creating such a masterpiece. Indeed, it’s a wonder, a perfect work of craftsmanship. Unfortunately, modernisation invented iron utensils, and the traditional pot is relegated to secondary use. In some communities, it’s no longer in use.
This piece attempts to bring back childhood memories of living with my granny.
Granny’s Clay Pot
I drew water from this ancient pot,
Water from this calabash tastes purer
It’s granny’s invitation to every visitor,
A cupful of tasty goodness straight from the hamlet spring,
This takes me back to my happy and benign childhood!
With antique bowls also made of clay
I drink, I let the fluid drip down my jaw
To create a cascade for my fantasy,
To return to a dramatic childhood,
A home, a feeling; my true dreamland
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