I was quick to curse under my breath every time the Sienna bus entered a pothole. This time around, the tarred road had been excavated with no sign of it ever being tarred, leaving us with the dusty ground that joyfully painted our faces with dust whenever a vehicle led ahead. Unfortunately for me, the vehicle I was in had no working air conditioner, and worse, passengers were loaded with sardines. My village was a 2-hour drive from the local government secretariat, which was another 3-hour drive from the capital city. I was certain my facial expression hid no dislike for the trouble I faced. I hissed countless times whenever I glanced at my co-passengers, one particularly holding onto two live and local chickens while another baby backed a baby, probably an infant, while she had another child of about 7 years that kept dozing and tossing his head on my thigh. Frustration gladly became my companion, despite my dark skin already harboring dust freely poured on me from the untarred road.
"Help us adjust, sir; here is tight." One of the passengers said to me, I sat in the middle row with three other adults and two children. Hearing the lady with the two children ask me to adjust my lanky body size, which was already stuck to the extreme of the passenger seat, dumfounded me when I heard what the moderate-sized woman said.
"Except you want me out of the vehicle; I can't go further," I retorted in a calm but firm tone. My legs were already gummed together from the inconvenience, and paraesthesia had begun to crawl within my legs. The lady grumbled, but I cared less as I stared at the exterior, watching the trees as though they ran past me even though it was the vehicle that was in motion.
By evening, I got to my village. My dad had arrived earlier for some important meeting and had instructed me to join him later because of his intention to harvest the crops he had planted earlier, thus necessitating my arrival at the village. A different but sweet breeze welcomed me as I sighted the village at a distance, and soon enough, I was out of the vehicle, stretching my tired legs that resisted the exercise as a result of stiffness from the long travel. "I have suffered today!" I said to myself as I made efforts to dust myself off. The last time I had come around to the village was when I was 7, and two decades later, here I was setting foot again like the prodigal son.
I saw my dad walking towards me as I removed my bag from the car. I looked around, and I could estimate the residents were a handful, probably less than a hundred. "Hope I'm not staying in one of these huts," I prayed silently as I could pick only a few houses molded with blocks.
"Welcome, son. Glad you joined us; your relatives have been expecting you." My dad said, patting me gently on the bag.
That very night, I slept in a mud house, but the mosquitoes that voraciously sang inconsistent lullabies would not let me rest. I wondered if it was a welcome party for the city's fresh blood or if they did this as a routine. Though I was inside the house, ready to sleep under a mosquito net, not minding the heat, for I was unwilling to expose myself to the mosquitoes that angrily threatened to breach the net as though I was depriving them of their rights, I could hear my dad and his relatives continue to gist as though the mosquitoes meant nothing to them. How I eventually slept was a miracle, for my tear glands almost betrayed me.
The following morning, I had to bathe in very cold water, making me wonder if the village had planned to frustrate me. James, a cousin of mine, as identified by my dad the previous day, showed me the convenience of a locally built restroom in the backyard of the house with a cloth covering the entrance. Immediately I saw where I was to take my bath, and I could not help but count the remaining four scheduled days left for me to oversee my dad's farm harvest. After the shower, I wore a polo shirt on a short and walked through the village with my cousin, James. I was amazed at how simple and carefree the people lived. Of course I was stared upon, which was a bit uncomfortable to me, but I enjoyed the attention I was giving them as a city boy.
James led me to a woman who sold roasted yam and egg sauce. Though I was worried about the sensitivity of my stomach to foods I was not used to, I made myself comfortable with a few pieces, which I enjoyed and topped with satchets of water. Two days later, I joined James and other relatives of mine at my dad's farm. I was given a boot to wear, as I was not willing to take chances with any creepy animal crossing my path. Many laborers were employed, and my dad came around occasionally as I supervised the farm produce, which was bagged and loaded into trucks that came by to buy them.
I was glad the harvest was quick, since my dad employed many hands. On the day I was to leave, I began to miss the village, even though the greater part of me wanted me out of the village. I sensed within myself that I would be coming back more often, as village life could be interesting if I put my heart to it.