Dreaming on..... (Parts of my childhood) Part 2

Fill in the blank space
12. Yams grow on ………….

Branches
stem
root

Well if you asked my best friend in Junior Secondary the answer to that question she would have picked A, because she had never seen yam plant and that to me it was funny. Okay I have more than enough farm stories, stories like this are usually told by people who grew up in the village but me it was something I experienced in a major Nigerian city, well that’s what I call Benin.

My father worked with the ministry of agriculture and when I was still teeny weenie, (never out grew that teeny weenie stage I must confess) we had large farms in villages close to Benin. I spent a large part of my formative years in Benin. These farms where located in deep forest where you had to clear a part way to get to your destination. Farm days where every other Saturday which I looked forward to and my elder siblings never ever looked happy when my dad announces that the next Saturday was farm day.

In the morning we all will be dressed up in jeans, shirts etc totally covering the whole body and protective boots. Most times we never had a bath because of insects and other harmful things that might be attracted by the smell. The journey most times took up to an hour or 2. We all pile up in the car with my mom sitting in front. Lunch neatly packed in the booth and our cutlasses and hoes, bowls and other things needed for the journey. And at 6 am we are on our way to the farm.
I never understand how my father could find his way through the forest and arrive at our farm. It was just forest, with those large trees, lush green vegetation, crickets chirping sounds and that quiet stillness. Once my elder brother said he saw a monkey! As soon as we arrive work is shared, well very little as workers are already waiting for us. I guess my dad just brought us along to experience nature and learn new things. Soon we all get occupied in exploring with constant warning from my dad or the workers not to stray far. I always stayed with my mum I think, sometimes reading. Those where fun times. There where several farms and the last one was close to home. I even got inspired to start a garden but it was short lived because it entailed lots of work and our stupid neighbor’s dog sometimes made a mess of all my efforts. By 2pm we where on our way back, sharing tales of things we saw. We grew yams, cassava, melons, and corn. We even had a large yam barn at home that sometimes we where forced to sell part of our harvest in market! We sometimes made garri, (it was a tedious and interesting process), had a poultry farm with all kinds of birds, never went in though was and still scared of live chicken. Prefer them fried or barbecued on my plate. We had fun as a family and countless stories and experiences.

Guess my dad was just a village man inward and wanted his children to experience a part of it. Glad I have stories to thrill my children when they are older.

Okay! i know boring story….banging my head on the wall…searching……searching…