The Lonely Farmer
An old, dedicated farmer captures the attention of Dare Lasisi when he visits his birthplace
The dried leaves and dead woods littered my garden and the torrential wind must be blamed for that incident.I knew it was my job to clean up to prevent the wrath of my disciplinarian father. If one abides by his ‘ten commandments’, the whole world would be like a paradise till eternity. Rodents of different species and sizes burrowed through all the available holes in my garden; searching for means of livelihood. I once broke my ankle as a toddler while walking round the father’s compound. I was born and nurtured in a village, and later matured to appreciate nature at its purest form, far from the modern-day pollution and resource exploitation.
My father whisked me away to a public school in the nearby city where I acquired the basic western education despite the advise of my mother to attend a village school. First day at elementary school was historic, carrying my heavy desk on my well-shaved head, while my father lifted the chair marked with my given names.
While sojourning in the city, I had learnt new essential skills such as how to use a computer and how to effectively operate a mobile telephone handset among other things.
On one fateful day, I was on a routine visit to my birthplace and caught the sight of an old man riding his heavy-laden rickety bicycle; swerving left and right on the footpath leading to the wider non-motorable road.
His gaunt frame momentarily betrayed his age-long efforts as a dedicated farmer coupled with that hydra-headed monster tagged poverty which was better experienced than imagined in his situation.
On his lonely journey, the ramshackle object of mobility hit a stone which punctured its rear tyre and it came abruptly to expected halt and sadly, the aged fellow had to push through to get to his final destination.
At a point, he realised that beads of sweat had rolled down his wrinkled face to cover his forehead under the scorching sun.He used the back of his palm to wipe away the salty fluid for clearer vision.
Suddenly, thunderstorm enveloped parts of the village and his bicycle collapsed before his very eyes to asuperior element; scattering all the contents of his sack upon the surface of the earth.
Though dejected and stressed-up, he mustered courage to gather all the dismembered items which include:three tubers of partially rotten yams perforated garden eggs, over-ripe oranges, sun-dried maize cobs,fresh vegetables, sweet potatoes and oval-shaped tobacco box with the lighter. With his bald head bowed in shame and disappointment,he stood motionlessly, looked up to heavens in a gesture similar to questioning the authority of the‘ Supreme Being’ for his entire predicament.
Later, words of wisdom pierced through his bruised heart and he wasted no time to pour out his venom:‘Human greed is unlimited; man will always search for excessive wealth till he breaths his last while his survival instinct shall continue to drive him towards perfidy and self-destruction. Man is man’s greatest foe but his power-drunken style of authority would not only stand in the way of progress for his homeland but brilliantly hang like an albatross on his neck till judgement day.’