The first day I followed my dad to the farm, I thought the farm was a place where people go to have fun, snap pictures and flex muscles.
I had just come back from the hostel for the holiday when my dad shared the big news that we now had a big farm where he planted yam, cassava, maize and other orisirisi things.
I was so excited without even thinking about what a farm meant. Innocent Abigael was just craving outdoor activities that will be worth writing about inside diary.
That morning, as we were preparing to go to the farm, I dressed really well, used powder on my face and even applied one shiny lipgloss that had glitters to shine and moisturize my lips.
Unexpectedly, the ride to the farm was bumpy and uninteresting. The gallops and gbim gbim gbas gbos made the car bounce my big yansh up and down. I didn’t like it at all.
When we got to the farm, my dad handed me a hoe to get to work. I was just looking lost in the midst of the leaves and cricket sound as it dawned on me that farmwork wasn’t what I was expecting.
Everyone got to work cheerfully except me. I started daydreaming and wishing for an Arabian prince charming to pull me out of the hardwork, flying insects and the semi hot sun.
As I finally got down to uproot a cassava, sand splashed on my face and my yeye lipgloss packed some sand to store for lunch.
It was difficult to clean the sand off because both the sand and lipgloss were already joined in an unholy matrimony and were glittering to the glory of industrial labour.
Farm work is not for the faint hearted. It is serious business that demands tenacity seriousness, discipline, calculation, strength and wisdom. It is not for a pleasure seeker like Abigael…it is for those who have strong muscles to flex.
After that day, every morning when I see that rain is about to fall…I will be happy in my head because heavy rain or even one small downpour meant no farm work for that day. This is what built my interest in weather forecast.
My dad is not always happy with the rain disrupting a hard day’s work. He will squeeze his face and be praying that the rain should not fall but one Abigael will be in one corner binding and loosing any answer to the prayers.
As I stepped out of my house this morning while it was raining heavily to go in search of my daily bread, it occurred to me that there are some lessons that responsibility and bills will teach a child.
I liked rainy season as a child without a landlord to submit money to. Now, I detest the disturbance of the rain as an adult who wants to make money and run errands.
Thank God for the person that invented this umbrella that covered my big head. The gel I applied on my hair would have washed away my sins.