moonlight games with my rascal younger brother who was too clever for
his age. We spent time scheming on how we could pilfer Mama Ugonna's
yams to roast when Mama was not looking. We killed lizards and carried
their carcass home, worthy prizes for all the hard work of running
after them and good crunch snacks they made. The funny thing was that
we seldom tired of our many games. Boy hood was indeed intoxicating,
memorable and full of fun. We were never tired. We laughed, cried and
fought as easily. All our emotions were as vibrant and flared; there
was seldom distinction in their expressions. For what seemed a
lifetime I reveled in this bliss until age inevitably took its toll.
The notorious adage that proclaims that Obi now had chest hairs and as
such was a boy no longer could not have had more meaning. Our eyes
turned to more pressing matters like the special differences between
ourselves and our female counterparts, very interesting differences.
In fact it was not entirely news in those day s to hear that one of my
play mates was caught together with his female counterparts getting to
know those differences better with wide excitement sweeping through
each one of us and then a struggle to beat curiosity at its own game
of teasing and teasing an already interested mind.
Chidinma Used to be my interest in those days. She had a small smile
that could melt my little heart too water and of course she wasn't
thrifty with her curiosity during our discovery sessions. We liked to
be near the stream when such sessions were ongoing; it made it all the
more worthwhile. The good old days. I remember having made effort to
please her. I remember brawling with Enekwenchi against the manly code
because he had broke her water pot out of envy. I would later be
tagged weak for that incident and this memory lingers still with its
vivid audacity encroaching on my minds peace. The indulgence of our
childhood included the hurried sips of palm wine from the masters ,
those so skilled in their art the gods might as well have come aground
and demanded for their libation first hand for in such matters the
village chief priest Ezemmuo who himself knew good wine from bad
couldn't be trusted. At first it was the occasional customary sips we
got from our fathers whom we had managed to tickle their sense of
pride despite all our troublesome tendencies. Then the boys were
beginning to thirst for more of the miraculous substance, more
adventures customarily followed. First we attempted to entice Esomchi
the legendary tapper who seemed to always be a bit light headed, this
was hardly surprising considering that our people would have deemed
his product impotent if it had no effect on him. It was sort of a
plus, a market statement to all and sundry" My wine is very GOOD" it
screamed through his constant state. We saved a fortune and tried to
pay him into submission, his better senses despite his state reminded
him that it was NSO-ANI, so he vehemently rebuked us and said a firm
no. Dike the wiser amongst us remarked smartly that it could only
become NSO-ANI if our people were informed; he suggested that the
transaction was not to be revealed to the public. At that he
threatened to involve our parents and we backed away solemn at having
lost an opportunity. I had a plan in mind as we walked away from our
chance at adventurous satisfaction and puerile joy. I didn't hesitate
to intimate my friends . They were well gladdened with the hope it
gave, and we planned to begin execution the next day. With that we
parted our separate ways, for some home called, for others their
female companions. It was going to be fun, I could feel it. I couldn't
wait for the next day.
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