As a child I wanted to have many children. Honestly I was thinking of founding my own village, because I was born in the urban of Africa and travelled a lot with my late dad.
To me, the thoughts of old Africa is the realization or experience of paradise. Old Africa is the example of the paradise we quest. Those who lived in Africa before the Arabic and European invasion lived in paradise. Indigenous people at different corners of the world once had similar experiences. I can never forget the tales told by my grandmother, "Mamoo" at Ebute Metta.
The people of old Africa were contented with what they have. That society was ruled by ancestral laws and no one was above the law, including the king. Ofcourse, there were tribal wars but diplomacy existed among Africans. A people with thousands of languages and ethnic groups, who co-existed and sorted their differences the African way.
I used to imagine how beautiful it is for those that are born in the villages. To wake up to go to the stream or river to fetch water. The early morning walk under the amazing dew and fresh air. The family kitchen would have been amazing with the elderly women and the apprentice girls and ladies who are learning the secret of cooking to delight the future husbands, children and families. I am imagining a documentary in the village kitchen.
The original or undiluted village festivals were celebrated to preserve the community's heritage. And when we celebrate these festivals in the urban of Africa, it is vital to remember the lessons. Festivals are celebrated for a purpose. Alright, I support the abolishment of everything that is detrimental or that is out of place in the culture if any.
There were no beggars in old Africa, at least I know of West Africa where everyone in the community has a role to play. Everyone works and begging or stealing is a taboo which brings shame to the family name. There is a difference between arrogance and pride. Old and conscious Africans are not arrogant but have pride in who they are and will uplift the family name to a respectable position in the society.
I am imagining the scenes or dramatic imagination of what love between a boy and a girl is in a typical African village. What happens after the moonlight stories? What happens along the footpath that are lighted by fitila lamps characterized by chirps made by crickets and other animal sounds from nearby forest.
I once thought of having over a hundred children. Yes, I love children. I don't know what happened. Well, what happened to the dream? as I seem to be contented with the ones I have. Well, I'm thinking.
Anago Osho
Badagry, Lagos
NOTES
Fitila: An ancient lamp made of clay and fuelled by Palm oil.