The Road That Leads Home

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Helen Vendler once said "It is by their arts that culture are principally remembered" - There were arts in cultural tune that spiced up my growing up, I do love to talk about myself, my culture, my people, my life, my country, more even, my continent, Africa - the land of the rising sun and the land where it sets. It is proud for me growing up where it was recorded as the cradle of civilization, the civilization of books and prints, writing, Architecture, Mummification, storage, water channelization, irrigation, up to common sense, even farming technology. I do remember the Egyptians were acknowledged to have been distinguished by a common attitude, the art of 'using what they have to get what they want'. Therefore, one cannot but speak proudly of where he calls home, Mama Africa!

Home to some is a place where there are four walls that protects them, to some it is the joy derived from each point they find themselves, to a nomadic in North Africa, home is each round hut covered with a thatched roof that shelters him and his family, until he finds a new home where his cattle can feed on grass and drink water to sufficiency, but home to me is same and different, It is a townhall different from Balablu, Bulaba, so, what then and where is my home? Hmm!

Home to me is the two bushes on two sideways with a bald in between while the shrubs on the two sides rubs my legs and body leaving a water imprint on my clothes as I walk through them in the raining season, but looks dry and ready to be set on fire to hunt for escaping bush meats during the dry season, not until I reached another home, this road, likened to a devil passage for men prepared for initiation, is a home, this is the beautiful path that leads to my farm.

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Home is the place where there are heaps in rows and columns that are in their numbers skillfully arranged and done to give way for aeration and easy passage of persons. This home is where I sleep in between two tall plants after several weeks of growth, where I find solace to go wild in my thinking. Here is where the thoughts of who I missed during the long holidays come to play, it is a place where i learnt that art and act of making fire with the spark of a stone, it is where I arrange three big stones and pick woods to make a fire for food, it is a place you are vigilant for crawling insects and ants that stings, it is a place where water that flows is refreshing and safe for drinking. It is a place when you work to a time and as the sun sets you return all equipment and head to another home where the stools and chairs wait for the buttocks to come sits on. This home is my farm.

Home is where I find relief anytime, I travelled to my Mum's beautiful hometown and as we go to the farms with Grandma, I have a reserved special spot which is on a cashew tree, where I have the whole time to think about the ladies I love, and the memories that have abound over the recent days and years. This moment affords me to listen to the beautiful chirpings of the birds, this is where the old long song is best sung:

Home my home x2

when shall I see my home

when shall I see my native land

I will never forget my home.

The road that leads home!

A new home is a place where I sit along the riverbank, scouting for fish with my local hook and line, attached there with is an earthworm picked from beneath topsoil, a big catch is a proud moment, a small catch is a pride to my name, because in the smallest of things there lies the best of things.

You can't have disharmony in an orchestra, everyone focuses on one tune, my body soul and minds appreciate these separate homes, it is a credence I everyday enjoyed. The road leading home is the two dualized road that leads to my special home, a place of pride, and the land of honor, where everybody is welcome from any walks of life and free to settle down and make a headway in trade, politics, arts and culture and shared their inputs for a better home.

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The road leading home from the dualized road is the one road but two car drive, when you get to the Kings Palace, you will pass a road which leads to a corner where there is a Catholic church, from the church you turn left and walk a bit down the road, where you see a symbol, Welcome to Isijogun, from thence, you see a house colored in Blue, with brown roof, with a burial spot which immortalized the duo of my grandparents, where you then see a door that leads to a hall way to the compound of like minds who loves you to the hearts but can fight to any length on family meetings - this is my home. 

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I have taken all these roads, yet, I am taking a special one, a step at a time, where it leads, I don't know, but confident it will lead home, this one is such that abounds with the hearts, it is the center of love, and affection, it is where seeds are made, it is where two can't sleep except they say a goodnight and be the first to say a complimentary good morning, it is where the body moves from a silent stage to a motion  where you are wired to make a heat, and sweat even when the weather is not hot. The bible expressed it as, "can two walks together except they agree?"- this is the new home I am treading; I have walked some, it leads to nowhere even though I had wished otherwise, but sometimes wishes are not met, but for an appointed time. I am walking this road each passing day, with a little stop over when there are side attractions, in the side attractions comes the beauty of the road, and as a man, I am empowered to check in the side attractions.

The roads that lead home varies in size and ranges, but here are the roads that leads to my Home, I have walked it, and still walking it, until it leads me to where I want, I will never back down or relent, I will push gallantly until I arrive Home - The road that leads Home!