The jingle always reached us before the guy did. It would drift into our compound quietly, weaving through the afternoon heat. Most times we were busy with childhood things, drawing shapes on the floor, building sand castles, creating leaves bags with the mango leaves, playing hide and seek, or making fake dinner with sand and sticks utensils.
Then suddenly...
Jing...Jing... Jing...
Everything paused.
Heads lifted at once . One of us would straighten up slowly, eyes wide, as if the sound might disappear if we moved too fast.
Did you hear that? Someone would ask!
The Jingle
In our street there was only one thing that made that sound, the ice-cream guys bicycle. He always come when he knew kids will be outside playing, in the hot afternoons. The Jingle wasn't just noise, it was hope. It meant sweetness and happiness for the rest of the day. We were always in expectation of it.
This particular afternoon I remember was hot, lazy, and the sut sat heavily on zinc roofs and the air felt really thick.
My playmates and I were outside, barefoot, just clinging to our ankles. I was crouched near the mango tree, drawing shapes on the sound when I heard the jingle.
My heart jumped!
Ice-cream guy is here! I shouted, already scrambling to my feet.
Panic and excitement rushed in as we heard the jingle more clearer. We knew what would come next.
"Mummy!" We shouted in unison, sprinting towards our various houses in the compound while the Ice-cream guy waits outside.
Doors flew open . Inside the house our mothers would look at us with that familiar expression, half amusement, half warning.
“Every time,” my mother said, shaking her head. “Ice cream again?”
"Pleaseee," we chorused , stretching the word like rubber
Sometimes we got no for an answer, or she would say another day. But those answers were the hardest, standing the waiting for permission while the jingle gets louder.
That day my mom sighed and reached into her pocket. "One each," she warned. "And no fighting."
We all ran back out, with the money handed to us in our sweaty fists, the Jingle was now loud and triumphant like it knew we had won. The guy was waiting patiently for us to come out, he was under the mango tree, his old bicycle leaning on the wall.
He wore a faded blue cap and a white vest stained with years of melted sugar, he almost always wore those.
He smiled when he saw us running back, a slow knowing smile. "Una welcome o", he said In pidgin, fanning himself with a piece of cardboard. "Which one Una want today?"
We crowded around him, pressing close, peering into the coller as he opened it. Cold air puffed out , carrying the sweet milky smell that made our mouths water instantly.
There were rows of Ice-cream, different brands, Fanice in red and white pockets, FanYogo in white and blue packets, etc. Banana flavour Ice-cream was my favourite because of it's unique taste. But this time I wanted something different.
"I want FanIce!" I shouted first, holding out my 30 naira like it was gold.
"One fifty," he corrected gently.
My heart sank. I looked at the money in my hand, only thirty naira. I turned back to the ice-cream guy and said I only had thirty that he should make an exception for me. The guy said unfortunately the price is fixed.
I didn't know what to do, and if I asked mom again she'll say I should get what the money I had could afford.
I was just about to settle for something cheaper when my grandma showed up miraculously. Like she had been there all along. She was standing a few steps behind us with her wrapper that was firmly wrapped around her waist and her purse in it. She approached us.
"What's with all the commotion?" She asked, with an already smiling eyes.
"Grandma!" I exclaimed, rushing towards her. "Ice-cream guy is here."
She chuckled and shook her head saying she heard the jingle from inside.
She reached into her purse and searched for money, counted carefully and then handed crumbled note into my hand.
"Go and buy what you want," she said.
I beamed, nodded quickly and ran back to the ice-cream guy.
"I'll take FanIce" I said proudly this time, with my head high, and holding up the correct amount.
He smiled and nodded. "Correct choice."
He gave me the fanIce , exactly how I wanted, the cold packet instantly numbing my fingers. I tore open with my teeth without waiting, licking the edge as far as I could before it will finish melting.
The first taste was creamy and sweet, I enjoyed it particularly because it's been a while I had it and I was always getting the banana flavour. I savored the fanIce like it was the best thing in the world.
Around me , my friends were doing the same, having fun, and comparing the flavours, arguing over who got the biggest one. Some complained theirs was melting fast, and most of us had ice-cream dripping down their wrist. If there was any kid who couldn't get theirs we were kind enough to cut some for them.
Grandma stood nearby watching us with quiet satisfaction. When I caught eyes with her, she smiled, I smiled back, my mouth took full to thank her properly.
The ice-cream man wiped his hands on a rag and leaned against his bicycle ringing the bells slightly while adjusting the handle.
Jing...Jing...
The sound felt calmer and softer like it's job was done here.
When no one else was ready to buy and he was sure of it, the ice-cream guy will packed up his cooler and climbed back on his bicycle. And before leaving he rang the bells one last time, louder and deliberate. We all changed our goodbyes with hope that he would come again another day, our eyes followed him till he was out of sight and the sound faded away slowly. And then the normal street noises will resume.
We went back to our games soon after , with our happy bellies, sticky hands, light hearts and big smiles. The mango tree was still where it was, the sand was still waiting for new drawings. Everything was still the same but it all felt much better.
Evening came gently and the heat softened and shadows grew taller, we already knew it was time to go inside. Some of us went in without being told, while most of us were called in by our parents.
I still remembered the taste of the FanIce while dinner was ready, I still felt the joy I had when licking the flavor.
It was so much fun.
Years have passed since, and we kids have become adults now, most of us no longer live in that compound, children don't play outside like we used to. The ice-cream guy no longer rides through our streets, and grandma is late.
I still remember those days and nothing has been ble to replace it, I only hand nostalgic moments.
Now when I hear similar jingles, or a bell ringing faintly from a distance, I still pause without meaning to. My heart lifts for a brief moment just like back in the days.
Those moments reminds me so much of my childhood. Days when I'm barefoot on warm sand, drawing shapes on the floor, standing under the mango tree with sticky fingers and a melting cold ice-cream.
I reflect on how it doesn't take much to be happy, those days it was those little things that kept us joyful and we had nothing to worry about.
Life has changed so much, and so have we. But that jingle lives on in my memory, reminding me that once upon a time, joy always arrived first before anything.
Image generated using my prompt on Grok