The Starting….
Life in the rural area at the eastern part of the country, can be a challenge or an adventure. Depending on how one perceive it. The village was a wonderful experience for Prieto after all, it almost looks like every bit of his hope were dashed into hopelessness.
No one can ever tell, where and when life can take a deliberate change for a new experiences, that is never bargained.
Prieto's account to visit the village was never a choice but a must. To behold his biological mother's face after several years, since he was a boy.
Life was expected to be fair but the tides to keep such pace, was a tussle and unending pain for Preito's mother, since separation with her husband, Prieto's father.
The young man grew up, under the hard hand tutor of his father in a polygamus home. The opportunity to have the chance of been with his mother again, came when he was grown. But he had to find his mother, for the pains of suffocation came heavy on him in a polygamus settings. Unbearably, that he had to locate his mother's family members.
The case was almost that of running out of luck! but fortunately he met someone, who knew where one of his relatives lived in other part of the city. He decided to locate his family for the chance to know, how he could get to his mother. To escape the noisy life of the city, to a place where he can find a peaceful and warm experience. Things he had been missing since childhood.
Prieto summon the courage to make it an adventure. A worthwhile sacrifice to give life a meaningful outlook, even if the challenges of the rural areas beckons.
The traditional and cultural methods of practice became a factor.
To Ameachi, for all the reasons he must have known so well about the village visitor.
CHAPTER 1
I admired him very much, sometimes I was afraid of him. There was something impenetrable even mysterious about him. He didn’t easily tell other people his likes and dislikes, after his return to the village to see his mother. He knew definitely that things will never be the same again. Quiet times for the night, with little time spent in the village he feels a heighten need to connect himself to the outside world but something was against him, the challenges of returning to city without making a meaningful mark and the village on the other hand looks to him more like a resting place.
A resting place away from the noisy life that bound the entire city wall, to a small community gathering. Something natural made his stay refreshing. The beautiful river. Some kilometer away from the community, wide enough to entertain the activities of the entire village. His mother's style of cooking, remind him of what he has been missing for couple of days, weeks, perhaps years. Months and several years long enough for anyone to credit as a long time. For he was taking away from his mother by his father, when he was a very little boy and now as fate will have it.
Things made a turnaround between him and his people for he could no longer tolerate, the way he was been treated. The first son of his mother, with a younger sister but there mother was divorced on the ground, best known to both parent when she was at the city. As a young man not only admired by himself, but by the rest of the people who score an average gentle man by their ways.
There were his uncles, sisters, I mean his mothers younger ones and majority of them were related by same father. His mother happens to be the first daughter of the entire family, for it was a large family and his mothers father, has several wives that almost connect the entire family with themselves, and he was known to be a chief in the village.
What amazes me was that he barely makes time for silly argument among his mother’s brother, whenever he spent time with them. Maybe, due to tradition and not wanting to get himself involve in too much of culture, so preferably he stayed to himself anytime he was with them. Except if there’s a good reason for contribution in issues discussing at hand. He merely smiled in his quite ways to show his paying attention. Night time, he goes back home to his mother, at times with screwed face trying to launch his frustrations, and why he could not get a job as quick as possible to escape the crazy malady of not been able to afford things like a man. Above all, it chokes him to come back home most times seeing his mother in such unhealthy state of living in the village. Anger and frustrations makes him complain, about not being able to have the money for the publication of his books.
As a graduate, he thought about the complications behind his National Youth Service corp, for him his chances felt slim. The manuscript of his own written book has gain awareness at the National Youth Service headquarter in Abuja, as the author of GOLDEN HEART. During the assessment, he thought about the former job application he made at the developmental support center, with the issue of not having a place to stay at the west end of Oyo, even if he was assign to work after gaining employment trying to establish himself financially. Having a clear conviction of himself as been on course.
I observe him waking up most times very early in the morning. During the day, I barely observed his presence but  morning times, I see him riding on his mothers’ old bicycle with towels of designs with many colours rounded to his neck, sponge bag locked at the carriage while his mother launch out scream on him, to ride carefully for the road around the entire village land marks, were weighty white sand that damage the chain of the bicycle while peddling through the stubborn course gravel.
All he would reply to his mother was a giveaway of an assuring smile that he will be okay. At times, he probably acted adamant for he thought his mother to be creating side attraction, to the rest of the neighbors in trying to show concern about him. A skilful mild bicycle peddler, always conscious at the hips of sand stop over, till he get to the river. He really enjoyed going to the river, morning and evening times. With little break to apply, after measuring himself inside the cool feel of the water, oh pardon me the river. I can’t deny what it feels like having been to such a river. The people of the village respected the river so much, that if anyone is caught contaminating it with feaces or absurdly urinating into the river, the person will be commissioned to real good lashes of strokes. You know what I mean. It is just the tradition, except you’re not caught.
The river is wide, with living voice of aquatic nature fingerlings swimming their way to the river bank, picking up what they can find to turn bigger fishes. It is really a good experience out there at the Onoku River. Oh… before I get myself caught up in trying to describe the natural nature of Onoku River. Prieto measured himself in the coolness of the river, swimming offshore to the deep end, with arms and legs spread testifying its movement across the surface as an experience swimmer, for he would want to pull stunt, trying to hold his breath under water passing between the surface of the river and the great sandy water bed.
This sandy bed, help some of the youth that have what it takes to pull  white sand sandy soil, with the help of a boat.