Farming and the Seer

(Prankish Pastime)

Farming and the Seer

By Mas Damisa

Let us assume that we were all farmers in Nigeria even though, division of labour and separation of powers have divorced many of us from the farm. I confess that I was once a farmer – being a farmer’s son. In our own area and at our time, the farming business begins at the early hours of 4.00 am when we must wake up to trek to the farm. The distance was usually between ten and thirty kilometers and the goal was to arrive not later than six in the morning to start work in earnest. Moreover, farming was very easy and pleasurable in those days. How?
For those unholy hours of between 4 am and 6am it was always pitch dark and to trek for that long distance, you must brace-up for some pleasant surprises. Because you are supposed to be sleeping as a young chap, if you leave sleep, it will refuse to give up easily and so, you have no choice but to sleepwalk. Now the typical village road and bush path were full of gullies, stubbles, stumps, rocks, and stones. We had to navigate through them all, sleep walking so, we jumped to fly over gullies, hit the stumps before knowing it was there, hit the stones to announce our transit, stumble on rocks for a kiss of a good morning – just for going to the farm. As a result, no one ever arrived the farm intact, for you would have donated some blood, foot nails, a black eye and in a few cases, a dislocated hip to the enterprise, I mean to those omnipresent stumps and stones on the way. By the time you arrive proper, a look at the mirror will confirm your encounters on the way to the farm – a physical wreck wrought in the furnace of hard labour.
If you are left alone to wade through those natural obstacles on the way, matters would have been easier to manage. However, at times, we met cobra, crawling majestically towards our direction and had no choice than ran into the bush to allow the king the right of way. Those who could not escape were mauled – a source of infant mortality. At other times, we were chased back to the village by marauders who were at work – stealing people’s sweat of farm produce. In which case, we returned home to show our bruised knees as the proof of the marauders’ raids – until the next morning. Still at other times, we were confronted by two penetrating eyes, which have no respect for darkness – as they see through it like daylight. We would be forced to retreat or stop and watch until we figured whether it was dangerous to advance or to vamoose from harms way – and that decision must be made in split seconds, otherwise…
Some other times, we met an old woman who was half-naked, doing some incantations and enchantment. In fear, we greeted her and she increased our trepidation by not answering our greetings. Was she a witch or an idiot? To look back at her would worsen our fright, but for our safety, we had no choice than to do so. By the time we did, the old witch had disappeared into tin airs. First, we increased our pace, then attempted to run and then we ran rapidly until, while struggling for space on the narrow bush path, we collided and fell simultaneously – all these because we must arrive the farm before daybreak!
How we survived that tortuous routine for those years is another story, which only the gods could tell. But it was not all trials, tribulations and troubles.
There were times we encounter hunters who would greet us and assured us that there was no danger as he had traversed the terrain. Again, we did meet particular specie of birds that were quarrelsome by nature. Whenever they fight, they bring themselves to the bush path, often times became too weak to fly, and so, we just picked them up into the bag – for a sumptuous meal. At other times, certain rabbits whose days were numbered would be sleepy right on the path way and we would just clubbed them for picks. Those that were not sleepy would take flight and we would chase them in hot pursuit – forgetting that we were not on a hunting mission expedition.
Could you imagine that even in pitch darkness, we quarrel? Oh, many times on our way to the farm, arguments do arise which in a few cases degenerates into a wrestling duel. Since no one has the time to separate the two, they would have to hasten their steps to catch-up with the team- as soon as they finished sorting out themselves. The journey to the farm continues. On a few occasions, the farm seedlings usually carried by the women among us would scatter on the sand because of stumbling. We would all stop and bend to pick them one-by-one until nothing is left for the birds to pick. Without doing so, what were we going to plant? Going to the farm was a task that must be done even if we had to crawl, jump, run, fly, or flee! We were on our way one day, not looking nor seeing the whether when a heavy rain started and were forced to take refuge at our grand aunt/s house some three kilometers from home. The old woman on recognizing the voice of my elder sister graciously opened the door for us and we remained there until the rains stopped. We left immediately for the journey after expressing our gratitude to her. A week later on our journey back home, we stopped to thank her again and presented to her some foodstuff we brought from the farm. She welcomed us as usual and gave us water to drink and to wash our dusty feet. When we made to go, she called my sister aside and they were taking. I noticed that the countenance of my sister has changed as she was looking agitated in contrast to the old woman who maintained a normal or subdued posture. After a distance, I asked my sister what were they discussing – was it about me?
My sister disclosed that the old woman lost some money and was inquiring if we saw or took the money. So I asked her if she took the money and she said she didn’t see any money, talk less of taking it. Unknown to us, the old woman had gone to a seer seeking to know who took her money. Our grand aunt also informed the seer that some people in transit lodged in her house for a few hours, around the time her money got missing. The oracle said it was a woman who stole the money. But she was living with some of her granddaughters and two of her sons’ wives. So, who among the women stole the money? Now, the seer became more specific. He claimed that the thief was a visitor and not one of the women living in the house. Who could the visitor-thief be? My sister? My sister!!. The old woman begged my sister to confess if she took the money, return it to her or whatever is left of it – and that no one would hear more about it. I demanded to know who was a seer and how or when did he see my sister stealing money. How, what, when, why?
Well, the case was taken to another seer who also said a woman stole the money but that the thief lives with the owner of the money. If this was a reprieve, my sister had not been exonerated, and so a third seer was consulted. This time, the seer said the old woman should go home and look for the thief. So, who is the thief? Could my sister be a thief? I resolved that this question must be properly answered. My sister informed our father when we got home who dismissed the matter as a non-issue, asserting that his daughter was not a thief. However, the oracle claimed she was a thief!

Do not misunderstand me; anyone could be a thief. But a thief knows himself or herself and if you have not stolen and you are pronounced a thief by an eyeless seer. Then you have the right to clear your name and or demand an apology from the fake seer. I was determined to save my sister’s name and defend her by whatever means. However, I was so young and helpless that I needed help to do so. Therefore, how did I embark on this task?

(To be continued)