Dr Fixit (011 - 020)

011

Who strayed to the forest on Ahdet, the rest day,

had themselves to blame as they were flown away

by the gods who prowled every forest track,

the brook and river on that day. They were back

after sacrifices by the medicine man,

ahbeah hebuck, were offered to appease the land

and its custodians. The folks of the generation

of my grandma revered nature and its regulation

they observed. In school, I was taught a week

had seven days in it, six for work and the meek

 

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gathered together and worshipped a deity

with a big heart who’d overlook their impiety.

Unlike grandma’s gods who’d abduct anyone

immediately they’d strayed from the norm,

this deity was full of grace and suffused

his followers with it – they took it or refused.

School would teach one thing, home another provide:

my young mind bestrode the divide.

At home, I heard of huwa hetierba, reincarnation.

In school, it was, judgment, paradise and perdition.

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‘Huwa’ means ‘life’ and ‘hetierba’ means ‘seven’.

I heard of ‘ahkpa ahboat’ which is a term

used for a moron. ‘Ahkpa’ means ‘first’

and ‘ahboat’ means ‘creation’ or ‘creator’ thus

the one addressed had little intelligence

meaning more comings would grant them more sense.

Grandma lived in the heart of Antburg

with parks for rat-drawn carts and a tin-capped hut

for theatre, a high brick wall for keeping convicts

and a police post manned by those we called ‘pigs’.

 

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(Before we proceed, I’m using English phonics

for spelling so you won’t need acrobatics

of your tongue and lips to pronounce the words

in Antish, the army ants’ language, which chalkboards

of human schools haven’t yet taught and the letters

of the alphabet and symbols are patents owned by teachers

and clans of ants which are closely guarded by them

and is tagged ‘Nseebeedee’, a profound term.

If some humans share some words, I’d tell you why

but now, back to the tale as the details I supply.)

 

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Yellow Lake had hospitals, courts, markets,

library, stadium and barracks for cadets

of army ants patrolling the frontiers of Antburg

to watch and suppress any unrest by any bug,

be it the wasp, bee, cricket or cockroach

or even the bigger ones who would dare encroach

on the serenity enjoyed by all the clans.

The cadets were there to thwart all their plans.

I loved seeing them stamp their feet and march

through the streets of the town with their khaki starched

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and shiny boots, arms swinging in rhythm

to the beat of the band whose strides were in tandem

with the rest of the troop – they fascinated me

(the band I mean) and something deep in me

wanted to wield the staff like their leader,

throwing and catching it in the air right over

his head and then swinging it between his legs,

front to back or otherwise and then next,

catching it with his other hand –

to watch this, every youngster in awe would stand.

 

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We had other brooks we could fetch and quickly

return home to Yellow Lake but we’d briskly

trek as our route passed through the barracks

which was opposite the stadium to spy the acts

of the cadets whether practising inside

the stadium or the big field outside

their base. We enjoyed them most

on Children’s Day when the stadium would host

all the schools and there were colourful displays

by the school bands but what drew and kept our stares

 

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were the big bands – the military and paramilitary.

Their performances were heavenly.

Apart from the leader of the band,

I was drawn by the instruments and

every organ of the body playing them.

With sticks in my hands, I mimicked the rhythm

on tree trunks, broad leaves and anything flat

I could beat and produce a sound. Grandma’s vats

and baskets now and then received a hit

and I also hummed tunes the military beat.

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Then, I made a flute from a bamboo stem

(I saw others do it and gladly copied them)

and someone found an empty tortoise shell

which we took and that was the start of the tale

of a small band I formed with a group

of my young friends and to the wood we’d troop

and play and sing till the sun vanished

 from the sky. I did this till I tarnished

my rapport with my grandma for I’d overplayed

and often empty-handedly returned home and late.

 

020

One night, I ate and crawled to sleep

but Grandma decided me awake to keep.

‘Ehkong nkay,’ she said. ‘Nkay ehkong Ahbasee,’

I answered. My excitement made me 

jump up from the mat, sit and lean my back

on my grandma’s bed. The traditional track

followed by the clans to tell a story

was what my grandma did; the response by me

was apt. ‘Ehkong’ means ‘war’ (if a noun)

or ‘to hit’ (if a verb); ‘nkay’ is a sound