IT was the constant crowing of the c.o.c.ks that woke Igho up. He had never heard a chorus of c.o.c.ks crowing like that before. It was as though they were in compet.i.tion for which c.o.c.k crowed the loudest. The hencoop was just at the other end of the house, just a few metres away from where they slept. At first, Igho was afraid, but he soon realised what was making the noise. He tapped Onome awake so she could hear the first sound in the village.Onome robbed her eyes and woke up. It was still dark and they could hear all the other sounds creatures of the night made. Cats mewed not too far away at the other side of the big compound. Soon dawn came and they got out of bed.
They saw Ufuoma making fire at the hearth. They wanted to know why he was about so early; he explained to them that they would be going to the farm.
"Will Igho and I also go to the farm?" Onome asked.
"I think so," Ufuoma said.
"Ok, so what shall we wear?"
"Something comfortable," he said. "I suggest trousers and shirts with long sleeves. You don"t want your skin to itch when gra.s.ses and leaves brush against you, do you?"
"No."
There was a brief pause.
"So, what is for breakfast?" Igho asked as he sat on a low stool.
"Grandma and Grandpa will have starch and banga soup, with boiled plantain," Ufuoma said. "But I will have boiled plantain and roasted fish only."
"Me, too," Igho said excitedly.
"But Grandma and Grandpa had starch and banga soup last night!" Onome protested.
"Well, that is what they want!" Ufuoma said.
"Can I have my boiled plantain and fish with a cup of tea, please?" Onome said meekly.
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"Of course, you can!"
"Thank you, uncle Ufuoma," Onome said. "You"re the best!"
They sat and watched Ufuoma making the food over the open fire. It was not the usual gas fire they were used to in the city. The live coals burned hot red and produced little smoke. They stayed close to it and did not feel the heat other than the food being cooked in it.
They watched Ufuoma make the starch. First, he cut a slice of thick, white lump of starch and put it on a heavy rimmed pot and added water and used his right hand to dissolve the lump of starch. He dipped his right palm into the liquid, brought it out and examined the back of his palm for its thickness as the white paste settled on it. He added a little more water. He told them the old people didn"t want their starch too thick.
Then he put the pot into the fire; he had smeared the bottom of the pot with palm oil so the starch did not stick to it. He began to stir the white liquid with spots of red palm oil with a long, wooden spoon. Soon it began to thicken in the fire just as Ufuoma continued to stir it. Then the white paste gradually began to turn golden. Then he began to turn it vigorously until a golden object began to emerge. Then Ufuoma would roll it and turn it over in the pot so it got evenly golden brown. He expertly rolled and wrapped it round the flat spoon and, with one deft movement he flicked the spoon and took the starch out of the pot and into a waiting plate.
Onome and Igho were surprised at how easily Ufuoma did it and clapped for him.
"Can I have a little starch with Grandma and Grandpa?" Onome asked.
"Have you changed you mind about what you want to eat?" Igho asked her.
"No, but I just want to taste it again!"
"Well, I"m sure they will not mind!" Ufuoma said.
After breakfast they set out to harvest ca.s.sava tubers from across Ase Creek, on the other side of the river. Floodwater had begun to come fast and if they didn"t act quickly, over three hectares of ca.s.sava farm would be lost. The labourers Grandpa and Grandma hired for the harvest left before dawn. They needed to work hard and for longer hours to save the farm from being overrun by floodwaters.
It was a totally new experience for Igho and Onome to sit in the dugout canoe and be paddled across the river. They saw men and women at work in the open river fishing and going on other errands. When they got to the farm, they discovered that most of the ca.s.sava farm had been covered with water. The workmen stood in ankle-deep water while harvesting. They were uprooting ca.s.sava and piling the tubers up in heaps. Women were peeling the ca.s.sava and bagging them. A few plantain trees stood in the water; their leaves were already looking pale and hanging limply by their sides.
At first Igho and Onome did not know how they could help. Then they got out of the canoe and began to help fetch the uprooted ca.s.savas to heaps Ufuoma indicated. They were so happy to be part of the work.
Opposite Grandma"s ca.s.sava farm was Grandpa"s yam farm. While the women working for Grandma were harvesting her ca.s.sava, Ufuoma and other men were helping Grandpa to harvest the yams. Igho and Onome had a chance to learn some of the different yam types their grandparents farmed. There were Eleya (also called ekpuke), oroze, okpe, abe, and esalagha. Ufuoma told them that out of the lot, only a few yam types could be planted on the same farm at once. Only ibi-ile was planted in that particular farm since the soil favoured it most.
However, what caught their interest most were the yam beetles that were harvested along with the yams. They had eaten holes in some of the yams. When Ufuoma told them that the beetles were edible and, in fact, delicious, Onome and Igho were surprised. Eat beetles? They were pleasantly surprised at the crunchy taste of the roasted beetles when they were roasted. He also told Igho and Onome that when the flood would have receded it would then be the turn of crickets, which he said tasted just as deliciously as the yam beetles.
By late afternoon they set out on the return journey back home. It was after they entered the canoe that Igho discovered that his right leg was bleeding. He was alarmed; he screamed. Ufuoma, who was at the helm of the canoe, went up to him and pulled up his trousers.
That was when he saw the big leech. It was blood red and fat from sucking excess blood from Igho. Ufuoma pulled hard at the slimy creature before he could remove it. He reached for a container with salt and applied it to the leech. It began to convulse and contort. Although Igho was still bleeding from the point where the leech stuck its mouth, Ufuoma a.s.sured him it would stop soon. All the while, Onome was scared but she held Igho"s hand in solidarity. She was not happy that their first day of fun in the farm ended in blood flowing from Igho"s leg.
When they got home, Ufuoma boiled hot water to ma.s.sage the tinny wound the leech had made on Igho"s leg. He also applied green liquid from the salt plant, obe-ugwe. The liquid stung Igho and he screamed. Onome laughed, but Igho was not amused. Igho was scared, but Grandpa and Grandma a.s.sured him his leg would be all right.
The surprising taste of the beetles, after their entrails were removed, was what redeemed the evening after what was a disaster with the leech attack on Igho on his first day at the farm.
Days later when their Grand parents" neighbour and Esomowho"s father, Oghenekome, brought home a monkey he had shot dead in his hunt, both Igho and Onome said they would not eat its meat. They were scared to even touch it. They said it looked so much like a human being. Ufuoma and everybody laughed at them.