For a little while, I lived with my Grandma in a quaint little village in Africa and we made very many beautiful memories together, memories, evergreen, securely tucked away in my warmest space. Living with her was fun as much as it was 'an institution of learning' for me. She taught me almost everything, from cooking to farming, household chores to societal norms and behaviours, even storytelling with moral lessons accompanying. Grandma's storytelling skills surely impacted me so much so that I started writing at quite an early age .
One of the memories that had me awestruck for a very long time was her uncanny way of telling the time with precision/ accuracy.
The first time I slept in her room was novelty for me because I had to share the mud bed with her, it was a hard surface but sleeping next to my rotund Grandma was enough softness for me. That night, I woke up with a start when I couldn't feel her next to me but then my eyes took in her form seated in the corner, the room being richly illuminated by the radiating Moonlight. Curiously watching her, I heard her muttering to herself but before I could ask what she was muttering about, I had quietly drifted into Oblivion.
'Get up, get up, we need to prepare for the farm' Grandma tapped me gently. I opened a sleepy eye to see her towering above me, I didn't like this intrusion at all but I dared not disobey.
'Ma, it's still night. Who goes to the farm in the night? I asked sleepily.
'Its morning already, why don't you check your w-a-t-c-h' she stammered. she had difficulty pronouncing that.
I sluggishly got up and reached for the wrist watch my Dad got me for my last birthday. With the oil lamp, I discovered that it was just some few minutes after 5am. When did I sleep that it was already time to wake up. I didn't like this one bit. With great reluctance, I roused myself and prepared for the farm.
I walked along with Grandma holding my hand, some others taking the lead along a worn out footpath.
Now very much awake, I listened to the music of the morning, it was serene and beautiful, it was still dark but I had gotten accustomed to the hazy smoke of early dawn. I was a chatterbox, inquisitive about everything we saw on our way.
The same curiosity got the better of me and I asked Grandma how she could tell the time without any fancy clock or gadget and without knowing neither how to read nor write, I really wanted to know. My own Mom had earlier explained to me that 5am was the time to set out for the farm in the village except on 'Eke' days when nobody dared to set their foot anywhere near the farm (it is believed to be a day the spirits assembled in farmlands and believe me, this is no mere superstition).
'I will tell you how I know the time, I don't need the white man's w-a-t-c-h', My ancestors have been telling time for ages before ever the white man came to our Land' she snorted.
After dinner, I quickly reminded her of her promise. Then she quietly led me outside to where a giant magnificent rooster was perched atop his little wooden house. She explained that for as long as she could remember, the rooster would always crow several times before the break of dawn every single day without fail
Then she proceeded to tell me the stories of how the rooster's crowing not only signaled a new day but also served as their unique way of telling the time. She described how each crow has its distinct tone and rhythm, enabling her to determine if it was 3am (the first crow was time for her meditations), 4am (the second crow signals the end of her meditation), 5am ( the third crow is to set out to work in the farm), 6am ( the fourth crow is to start preparing breakfast on 'Eke days') and so on and so forth....
I was awestruck by this astonishing connection between my Grandma (with all of her ancestors) and their feathered friend. Talk of a perfect symphony with the universe!
Today, thanks to Grandma, I could tell with exact precision, the time of the night or day without relying on my wrist watch but by simply listening to my rooster's crow (Oh yeah I do have one.... hahaha). I appreciate this simplicity and Nature's little wonders. They abound all around us.
Hook up with me for more stories from the stables of my Grandma.
Thank you for stopping by my neighbourhood
