On a 'meet the village tour'

“You went too close to Marina’s calf,” I said pointing to Marina who stood still looking menacingly and puffing at us.

“Let us get out of here,” Annete said trying to lift herself up.

Dad meanwhile watched from a distance with his hands akimbo.

I am not sure, but I guess in his mind he must have been counting himself lucky that mum stayed behind with the other guests. She would have created such a scene about everything and taken us down memory lane about how dad, eager to impress her by showing his bravado, put her in harm’s way. He literary stirred up a hornet’s nest.

Withering look

They were stung by the wasps and ended up in a hospital bed.

Mum wouldn’t have missed the chance to rub it in again.

I dusted off Annete and helped her as we trudged to the house.

There was no need to explain what had happened because upon sighting Annete, mum gave dad a withering look and went back to the house.

As Annete went off to clean up herself, I rushed in to plead with mum not to make a fuss of it.

“I don’t want her to keep reminding me of this incident all my life. I know what dad feels every time you mention this.”

I think this worked because the moment Annete walked in, all clean and sparkling, mum gave a groveling apology, and that was it.

Annete had been lucky.

Refreshing

Later that afternoon we took a stroll to the town centre where as a young boy I would often dash to buy the basic things like salt, sugar, tea leaves, paraffin and batteries for my dad’s transistor radio. It is also where the entire village brought their maize to be ground into maize flour.

All eyes were on Annete.

It being a Saturday, there were lots of people in the centre accompanied by their dogs. This made her a little uncomfortable. The thing about my village is that it is so small, strangers get easily noticed. We shook the hands of everyone we met.

All of them would almost ask the same question. This was rather perplexing and refreshing to Annete.

In the city where she grew up, relationships were impersonal. And nothing went beyond a perfunctory “hello”.

Annete then went to be with the women.

I went to shade where the men were keen listening to a ‘live’ broadcast of an English Premier League match on a transistor radio.

Photo: www.thetrentonline.com