Tying the minds

Hibiscus flower
Photo credit: 123RF.com

Growing up kids knew the names of flowers like hibiscus and the ixora. There was a tree that produced a type of flower that was hairy and when you removed the hairs on the flower it revealed a root-like stalk that looked like a tiny bald head. We would knock each other’s heads with it. 

There was also this type of flower that we pulled and removed the stalk just to suck its juice. Life was really wild and free.

The Ixora
Photo credit:fotolia

The most interesting thing we did as kids was the tying of our parents’ hearts or minds as the case may be. We did this whenever we did something bad or made a mistake that would warrant a punishment or tongue lashing like breaking a plate or a glass cup (why did we call glass cups tumblers please?).

The strange thing then was that it always worked. For some strange reasons or maybe because we believed, you would see that your mother or father would just not react the way that they would have ordinarily. 

When we got older we started to tie their minds for staying out beyond our curfew, parents always imposed curfews on their children in those days.

Enugu had no beaches but we created ours, the waters were still and a good area covered in beautiful damp white sand – how can I forget Akwuke beach. The first time I went there for a picnic with friends, I saw the magnanimity of God; the beauty, the space and all. It was just us, the sands, the almost still shallow waters and the skies. 

When it was time to go, we made our way through the bushy pathway to where the cars were parked and that was when we realised that we had stayed too late with nature. It was all bright down there in our beach that we did not know it was almost eight o’clock in the night.

My heart would not stop beating, I was in the secondary school and my curfew was seven o’clock; I knew I was in serious trouble and so I asked my friends to drop me by the empty land on my street which was notorious for being a home for bush babies (I wonder if this was a figment of our imagination as kids). 

A bush baby
Photo credit:gettyimages

Keeping a safe distance, I tied some long grasses together, I must have tied over four pairs, I was sure that mother’s heart would need more than just a pair of two long grasses to stop her from giving me a curfew reminder beating. 

When I got home mother had already retired for the evening, one look at my siblings I knew that I was in boiling hot water. I went to mother’s room and knocked gently on her door praying that she would be fast asleep; I jumped in fear when I heard “come in”. “Mummy good evening” I muttered waiting for the next instruction. 

If mother told you to go to the study and wait then you had to either pray for help or call for help. That instruction did not come, she looked at me and said “oh I natago” (oh you are back) to which I said yes. She said welcome to me, asked me to close her door that she was really tired and needed to sleep. I was over the moon and if not for time, I would have gone back to the bushy land just to pay homage to the gods.

The next day as we sat for Sunday lunch, out of the blues mother said, “bia Nwamaka I si na ejelu ebe yesterday?” (come Nwamaka, where did you go to yesterday?) I quickly maintained a safe distance as she started to scold me that if I tried that rubbish next time she would deal with me. 

Deep within, I was grateful that I tied those grasses for if her anger was that hot a day after I wonder how she would have been without her heart tied in knots in four different places somewhere in the bush. Lol!