UNPARALLELED
PASSION
It
was humid and rainy yet an average dweller in the community was so determined
to go to the farmyard towards ensuring that the barn wouldn’t seem pathetic
during the harvest period.
That
was how the people of Umude were groomed; they were bred to see farming as the
bedrock of human existence. None could spend a whole day without nurturing
interest to embrace his or her ancestral farm with a view to participating
actively in what they considered as the ‘most needful’.
On his part, Mr. Uka Okorie who stood aloof
right on the premises of his marital home, fixed his gaze on the unfriendly
atmosphere that was apparently a hindrance to the anticipated cultural
exercise, as he unwittingly murmured to the hearing of his three daughters who
were seated within.
Aside Umude’s unrelenting passion for
farming, which was regarded as a daily ritual, Okorie’s in particular was
conspicuously unparalleled. This was the reason even though the 54-year-old Mr.
Uka had at the moment only female children, he remained a farmer to reckon with
in the whole of Umude and beyond.
His second daughter, Chinasa who was
ostensibly touched by the unending murmurs, walked up to him. “Papa, why are
you restless?” she inquired. “You have been talking to yourself for several
minutes now.”
“What kind of stupid question is
that?” he vented the anger on her. “Can’t you see that the rain is keeping me
off from the farm?”
“But papa,” his 25-year-old first
child, Oge interrupted as she joined them leaving the third girl behind. “You
shouldn’t forget that we also need the rain for our crops to do well.” She
reminded maturely.
As Mr. Uka stood in his rain-booth,
determined to embrace his farming empire, he apparently became pleased by Oge’s
assertion, thus became more attracted to her person. “There is wisdom in your
words, my daughter.” he concurred. “We really need the rain for our crops to
flourish.” He said, paused. “But, just that I can’t wait to see how those crops
are doing.” He added in a jiffy.
“But we were there yesterday, papa.”
The 22-year-old Chinasa chipped in.
“Yes papa.” Oge supplemented, nodding.
“And as at yesterday we saw them, they were doing very well.”
Mr. Uka walked to one of the benches
positioned at the balcony where they were having the conversation and sat down.
“Please, my daughters,” he uttered. “Come…” he quickly urged, gesticulating,
and then paused. “I have something very important to tell you.” He landed.
The
three of them, including Chioma his third child, walked to the point where he
was seated and calmly sat on three separate chairs sited within. Mr. Uka was
flanked by the three.
“You see,” he began, cleared his
throat. “A farmer must be dedicated to his duties at all times...” He hinted,
took a breath.
The three respectively adjusted
themselves as they could not wait to absorb every bit of the awaited story, or
whatever.
“Since I got married to your mother,’ he
rode on. “There was never a day we missed our farmyard.” He informed with
alacrity. “This is why we remain the most prosperous family in the entire Umude
when it calls for farming business.”
Before he could finish the last word, his
loving and lovely wife Uloma stepped out from the house in her night gown; it
was 6:25am. She walked towards them. “Good morning, dear.’ She greeted her
hubby, standing.
“Good
morning nwanyi oma.” He responded cheerily.
“Good morning, mama.” the children
chorused.
“Good morning, umu oma.” quoth Uloma.
“How are you all?”
“We are fine, ma.” Oge replied on their
behalf as if it was planned.
Uloma
walked to her hubby, sat quietly on the same seat with him, and became
attentive.
“As I was saying,” Mr. Uka continued.
“I and your mother here had been so industrious in our family business right
before you were born.” He notified frankly, paused. “That is the only reason we
remain number one in this community.”
Uloma nodded, graciously glanced at
each of her daughters. “What your father is saying is true.” she cleared the
air. “We have been a wonderful pair in this.” She said, referring to the said
venture. “And God has been so wonderful.” She added.
Mr.
Uka nodded, twisted his head and remained calm.
“But even at that,” Oge chipped in.
“There is still need for one to take a good rest sometime in his or her life.”
she thought aloud.
“My daughter,” Mr. Uka called Oge
tenderly, touching her right shoulder. “If we have rested all these while,” he
said, paused. “We wouldn’t have gone this far.”
“I know, papa.” quoth Oge. “But, I am
only talking of resting at least once in a week.”
Her mum was speechless as she tried to read
meaning in her words.
“My dear,” quoth Mr. Uka. “There is no
resting time for a man.” He hinted, inhaled air. “Unless he dies.”
“Really..?” said Oge, surprised.
“Yes.” Mr. Uka answered, nodding.
At this time, the rain became
heavier, never minded that someone could not wait to see it fade away.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Mr. Uka.
“What is it, papa?” Chinasa tendered.
“Can’t you see the rain is becoming
endless?”
“That is nice, papa.” Chinasa teased. “At
least, it would enable you take a rest.” She thought aloud.
“Will you shut up!” he angrily urged at
the top of his voice, stood up. “Don’t you know heavy rain could be harmful to
our farm?”
Everyone, including his wife, was so marveled
over the uncalled response as they watched him in silent awe.
“I must leave now.” He said, stepped
out, and bitterly set for the farm.
They all stood up simultaneously.
“Papa,” Oge called in a loud voice as he takes some steps towards the farmyard.
“What are you up to?”
He ignored the query, kept moving
forward.
“Nnayi,” Uloma called. “Papa Oge.” She
repeated, attempted to step into the downpour with the intent of getting hold
of him but she was resisted by her daughters who held her firmly.
He
overlooked every bit of their worry and insisted in going to the foreseen
arena. On his way to the place, something unspeakable befell his person; a very
tall palm-tree collapsed on him owing to the intense wind that ensued thereof,
thereby claiming his life at the spot.
When the rain became lessened, his
family went as a group to the farmyard. On their way, they encountered the bad
omen that seemed not unlike a mere daydream. The incident threw the overall
Okorie’s family and the entire people of Umude into uncontrollable anguish.
The first daughter of the deceased, Miss
Oge took over from him thereafter and was in the long run reckoned to be the
most foremost farmer not just in the land of Umude but in the Diaspora. She
thought it wise that the only way she could make her late father proud in the
grave was to commence exactly from where he stopped, though she vowed never to
work without observing holidays.
FDN Nwaozor
Executive Director, Docfred Resource Hub - Owerri
_____________________________________
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@mediambassador
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