I CALL ON YOU MY LONG GONE DAYS by Mide Benedict

Chant of return:

I greet you, the house of all seasons
You, Time, who has danced and danced
With the sun and the moon clapping for you
You when your foot was struck upon the soil
Dusts of passing deeds scattered in the air:
Then, it came, the breeze of remembrance taking all in, whence
Tales of old times emerge from its large stomach
Revealing what must not be left to be trampled to nothing
On the grounds of old times.

I see it now, as it comes to me
Times when memories were still young and tender

When legs would not stay put,
But venture into the angry world of the sun
With friends, running into thick bushes
Searching for that which was not lost
And sometimes thorns and sticks got the best of our feet.
I remember once, I came home dirty, and my left foot injured
As the eyes of maami grabbed the sore, she shouted yeh!!!
When baami saw it, words fell from his mouth instead.
‘A child continually told not to kill his parents
Will one day be told not to kill himself?’
He shook his head and went inside.
With head bowed down, tears opened the gate of my eyes
I thought in me to change my ways, and be a better child
But the spirit that dwells in a child, that stubborn one
Followed me from place to place
Till I became a hunter; a lizard-killer.
From wall to wall, from ground to ground
I massacred their kind, until I saw no green life upon the walls,
For fear must have gripped them greatly.
When none I saw no more,
I felt bad, but not that bad:
Weeks, after hanging my task on the hook of neglect, they surfaced again
I came out and began my duty once more.

I see them too
Those castles of sands that once were raised upon the surface of my feet,
Gently, I would exhume my feet, like a ghost been called out of a body, from the castle
When it became slightly dry
And on its own, it would stand gallantly
While maami in turn would soak hands in bowl to wash frequently, my stubborn stains

I witnessed too, a time
A time I must not fail to tell
A moment when I sat upon the rough skin of the soil
Or on mats and stools that helped my bottom too
Along with cousins and siblings and friends
And we listened with calmness and suspense full eyes to baami or maami
Who sang the moonlight songs, amidst the drumming voices
Of chorus frogs and crickets telling their tales too,
Into our tender and stretching ears.
Into the night we would shout and sing aloud,
Sometimes disturbing neighbours already trapped in the dream-web
But they knew what time it was, so they did not bother to raid us with words,
Though at times baami or maami would tell us to feed your tongues with silence
So the masquerade of children that comes at night, all black in frightful masks
Would not appear and take us away into the forest
Where the voices of the crickets reverberated
Fear would grip us, and our tongues would suddenly sleep,
Until we had new songs to sing
But till childhood’s fire on the lamp stand of seasons
Was blown away by growth, not one masquerade of the child did my eyes see.
It was a time, though it rarely came
As modernity had begun, at that time to slap the bliss of those rich times
On the face,
Flying nurses would transfuse our bloods
Into their bellies.
But we cared not –we moved not
For the tales that fell –like stars from high sky
From those elderly lips
Chained our minds
And we cried, and danced round and round till it was time,
Time to vacate the coast of the moonlight reign

If time would come back to live again
Like an akuudaya,
Let it not forget to bring back with it these memories
I’ve once experienced of a sweet childhood and now I picture.

Chant of exit:

But now, you must come, breeze of remembrance,
Great work you have done
I prostrate to your power
You who have brought me these great things
And told me how those times worth more.
You who have given me memories of times
When my fila pointed to tomorrow
Come take it in again!
Again, come take it in!
So these moments could be found cloying
When it need be told once all over.