Manly things and such the like

According to the rainmaker, Majek Fashek:

"Everything in life has its time and season

"So you don't have to axe me why

"You don't expect to plant cassava

"And reap up cocoyam"

To be quite frank, I've never once planted cassava and wondered if I'd reap cocoyam. Even deeper, I've never really planted cassava. I don't recall such a time. I've planted yam. I didn't reap cassava, but what came out resembled a fetus more than it did a tuber. It was during the period when my father determined that all the male children in the family had to have their own little farms.

So we all had our own little farms. I wanted to grow tomatoes. My brothers laughed me to scorn. No real Urhobo man grew tomatoes, they said, not taking into account that I was all but eight years of age. "Well what about Bernard?" I asked. They said that Bernard, our very excellent gardener, was different. That once a person had passed the exams for gardening, he had to make tomatoes for the first three years. So I decided to go for something more appealing. I said I'd grow a carrot tree.

"You can't grow a carrot tree!" my older brother said.

"Why not?"

"I don't know... you just can't! Have you ever seen a carrot tree?"

I thought about it. I had never seen a carrot tree. I wondered how it was that carrots came to be. Could they be dead animals? Could a carrot be a deceased parrot, parading as a substance of vegetation?

I asked Bernard, our very excellent gardener who was forced to grow tomatoes for three years, and he gave me the answers. He told me that every two months, a man named Baba-Loko brought a sack of carrots to the world. People would pay Baba-Loko by giving him portions of their cut fingernails and he was always generous with his carrots. To see Baba-Loko, one had to go near the bush and shout: "Baba Loko! Baba Loko!"

Just like that.

Well, I decided that I'd grow carrots so that Baba Loko would not have to come to earth every two months. I could sell the carrots for him, and I'd pay him with my fingernails. Then I’d get paid by earth people with earth money, and everyone would live happily ever after. All I had to do was get carrots from Baba-Loko.

I went near the bush behind my house and stared intently within it. It was still. The crickets were making their normal racket. What is it, I wonder, that crickets shout to each other? If ever there was an invention they need, perhaps the phone?

Living in such an area blessed with trees and bushes, nature was something I always took for granted. The little things in life--the everyday creatures, we ignored. Only once in a while did we get a kick out of our blessing.

Once, Uncle Newton discovered what he claimed was a medium crocodile. Everyone nodded their head at Newton when he told his story and this got him hopping mad. The thing that bothered Newton about the head-nodding, I guess, is that when a person is nodding their head, you can’t tell if they sincerely believe you.

So Newton, he sat me down one day and maintained to the end that I needed to believe that he saw a medium crocodile behind the house. I believed him, but had lingering questions. Like, what exactly is a medium crocodile? He could tell I had lingering questions, so he took me into the bush behind the house to show me where he saw it. There was a farmer using some of our land to grow his crops. My father allowed him because he was a subsistence farmer who used the crops to feed his family. Besides, we weren't using much of the land, anyway, and it was generally hill-like and sloping. After a few minutes, and having depriving the poor farmer’s family of some corn, we arrived at the spot.

Uncle Newton brought me to what looked like a termite cave and pointed at it:

"That's where I saw it!"

As though on cue, a medium crocodile waddled out of the cave and stared back at us. I was so transfixed by the creature I couldn't move. Uncle Newton, unbeknownst to me, had torn back through the bushes yelling and screaming. I stood there watching as the medium crocodile approached me. It had kind eyes and scaly skin. It looked like a regular crocodile, but there was something familiar about it. While transfixed, I was not necessarily scared. Perhaps just awed.

The medium crocodile circled me once, then stood in front of me and nodded. For some reason I felt like I could understand what it was saying. I responded.

"Who me?"

It nodded.

"When?"

It hit it's tail on the ground 19 times.

I understood. It looked at me concernedly then strolled back to the cave.

"Granpapa!" I called it "they will come looking for you. You should hide."

It turned around and walked back towards me. It dropped a small necklace in front of me and then walked back into the hole.

In a few minutes Newton and his band of marauders were standing in front of the termite cave. "It's in there!" Newton yelled. They looked at him: "That's a termite cave! How can a medium crocodile live in a termite cave?"

Newton was undeterred. "Ask Gaga!" They turned to me. Inside the cave I could see a glimmering eye watching me sadly. I shrugged my shoulders and strolled off. The merry band of jobless vagrants all hissed at Newton and followed my lead. Newton was beside himself with disbelief. He stayed in the bush all night waiting for the medium crocodile to come out. The next morning Newton packed his bags and left hurriedly, mumbling all the way about the spirit of the ancestors upon the household. He did tell Efe that the medium crocodile had spoken to him that night, but never did give as to what the crocodile said. It was just as well that he left. People were beginning to think he was crazy, anyway.

So I stood by the bushes and waited for the right time to yell for Baba-Loko. I looked at the necklace and it signaled to me. I began to shout: "Baba Loko! Baba Loko!" Within minutes a frail old man walked out of the bushes carrying a basket of carrots.

"What do you want you young fool?! Don't you know no one ever disturbs me?!"

"Er sorry sir, but I wanted to talk to you about carrots."

"Yes, what!"

"I have a proposal for you..."

"Speak!"

I explained to Baba-Loko about him giving me his carrots to grow and me paying him with my fingernails. He thought about it for a while then spoke deliberately: "Carrot-growing is not a manly thing. To become a man you must grow cassava! Everything in life has its time and season. So you don't have to axe me why. You don't expect to grow cassava and reap up cocoyam!"

That sounded familiar. I looked closely at Baba-Loko. "Are you Majek Fashek?"

Baba-Loko almost had a heart attack. "You insolent idiot! Majek's album is not out yet!"

I thought about it and realized that it would be at least another ten years before Majek Fashek was a Nigerian phenomenon. With that he produced a cassava tuber from his pocket and gave it to me.

I walked away pondering what he said. Frankly I had never once planted cassava and wondered if I'd reap cocoyam. Even deeper, I had never planted cassava. Period. I heard a rustle in the bush and turned around. The medium crocodile summoned me and I went to chat. I'd be back before dinner time.

The end