******** RAIN NOSTALGIA *******
Not too long when ago when blokes and babes were boyz and
galz, rain was joy.
Free from the news of floods, mud didn't sling and
terrorists only existed on the pages of George Louis Stevenson's Treasure
Island.
The rains would chill the starry nights and we would sleep
wrapped in our mamas' tie and dye wrappers.
Then morning would arrive like a cheery August guest.
Anticipation would thump in our little chests, resonating
like the talking drums of the tribal marked entertainers at Ipodo market.
The contest of the winning boy with the most swollen plastic
bag of freely picked almonds, then known as 'froot' for ignorance of the real
name, was determined by whose parents would leave for work the earliest.
Then the race would begin. The old secretariat at Ikeja was
our Eden.
Almond trees were in abundance and the winds of the previous
rainy night would have carpeted the ground with a surplus of ripe
almonds...red, lemon green and yellow.
And we would pick, taste, discard and fill up our nylons
bags with the spoils of nature's internal war on herself for our munchy
benefit.
Returning home richer than we left, the older area broses
who were on retirement from our kinda adventures will look at us with pride in
their eyes and a longing for the sour-sweet taste of our almonds.
And of course, we'd share our 'booty' with our respected
predecessors. Our payment being pats on the head.
The gorging fun will now commence, as teeth sank into fleshy
pulps and the fruity sweetness exploding in salivary orgasms in our mouth.
Orgasms that shook our brains and blasted our hearts with colours.
Juice ran down the sides of our mouths and our eyes were
shut tight as if to prevent the ecstasy from escaping.
Such was the beauty of my boyhood!
Almond flesh relished, we moved on to the hard seed, which
we cracked open with big stones and got the peanut- looking, divine-tasting
nuts therein.
These nuts were either eaten solo and as an accompaniment
with garri soaked in cold water..
Our throats didn't itch. Our bellies didn't ache and our
anuses didn't run from this heavenly delicacy served upon our tables in the
presence of our enemies...bacteria, viruses, fungi, nematodes and protozoans.
And we didn't die...and isn't it obvious from this
storyteller that has dragged you through his wordsturbation on rain nostalgia?
Have a great day folks.
KUNLE OMOPE.
Photo from pinterest.com
