SEIYEFA, THE CASSAVA BOY by Siloko, Oyintari Ben.

SEIYEFA, THE CASSAVA BOY by Siloko, Oyintari Ben.

It was 1994, 24^th November, a cold afternoon under the Udara tree. I heard the voice clearly from afar, Seiyefa!!! Seiyefa! I didn’t bother to answer because my parents told me a very scary tale about spirits calling people sometimes, and if you mistakenly answer by error and you didn’t see anyone, you must quickly say Ine Teme Waibo [My spirit come back].

The voice kept calling Seiyefa!!! Seiyefa! I could hear the thunderstorm loudly each time my name echoes, which made it more frightening. The braveness in me ignited, being among the best wrestlers in my community. I moved towards the voice with courage. 

Just then, I saw Kurotimi, the greatest wrestler in my community – famous with the name, ‘the power house.’ I hailed him – Power! But the look on Kurotimi’s eyes wasn’t pleasant. Immediately, I yelled at him, Tei Ke Pama [what happened]; he was silent, I yelled at him at the top of my voice, Power!!! Tei ke pama. [Power what happened]

Kurotimi looked into my eyes, hugged me tightly and whispered into my ears, General don go battle field and him no da come back. It was as if a different spirit entered me, I held kurotimi back, as if I was about to shake myself off his grip, I shouted louder at him this time, Power - Ye gba ni dia eh, gba! Gba!! Gba!!! Gba!!!! [Power tell me something, say it, say it, say it] I can see tears rolling down the cheeks of Kurotimi, then I was convinced something was wrong.

Ine dau fide [your father is dead], Power said in awe, it was as if the rains were waiting for the news to be broken to me. It poured down heavily on us. I wrestled Kurotimi to the ground, just to gain my freedom of expression. 

I raced like never before. The moment I got home, everyone in my compound was mourning. Seeing me, some people ran to console me, alas,  I pushed them aside and ran straight inside the house, seeing the lifeless body of Chief Timipre Ngekpu Waibo, I lost consciousness. 

When I regained consciousness, I was at a corner of our beautifully made thatch house, surrounded by the youths of our community led by Kurotimi. I broke free from them and started searching for my mother and younger bro, Embelakpor. I found them at the back of the compound, surrounded by women. I advanced closer and wrapped them in my arms, consoling my mother.

[TWO MONTHS LATER, AFTER THE BURIAL OF MY FATHER]

Mama, things go better, wo dau ogono emi owei, blessings sai bo emi [our father in heaven is bringing us blessings]. Amen ine tubou, Ine koro bi di, kor kor, ari ine dau tubou eh [Amen my son, look at your face, indeed you are the son of your father].

I began farming on the cassava farm left behind by my father. The little cassava farm became so large. I harvested the cassava, peeled it, washed it and took it to the grinder. After grinding, I mixed it with palm oil, since mama and papa love yellow garri so much. After mixing, I bagged it and left it there, for the grinder to make it dry.

I enjoyed fryng garri so much, it was something I learnt how to do from my father. 

The interna-sunal [international, pronounced with our local accent] fryer, my mother teased me like my father did. After frying, mama called me, and started praying for me. 

One thing I know my mother doesn’t joke with was prayers, even though my father never believed in her prayers.

You no go lack anything for this life, I responded Amen

Your hard work go bring plenty blessing come anywhere you da, I replied Amen.

After series of prayers, I took the garri to the market to sell, so we can have some money for the family upkeep and Embelakpor’s school fees.

It was 4pm, that Monday evening at the market. I was hearing a different accent Saifar! Saifar! In my usual way, I didn’t respond because of the fairy tale about spirits calling. Aside that, I said to myself, my name no be Saifar, my name na Seiyefa. Maybe na all this 'i too know English' township people when don come market to buy our correct village product.

As I was meditating, a customer came to me, requesting for two rubbers of garri. The moment I was about putting the first rubber into the nylon for the customer, whom I had been admiring her daughter for years, someone held my hands, and in shock, the bucket of garri fell to the ground.

Bei ma teh ese ah [what kind of trouble is this], I said as I was raising my head to see who had touched me.

John Bosco, I shouted in excitement ………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

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