--Clocks

The sight of Udemmiri terrified me, so I simply did not look. It was said that every few days Uhammiri would meet her divine husband Okita on its banks, I didn't know on which days he came, but I was a bit curious. And at that moment, walking past it, I could have sworn that I saw figures adorned in white lappa and white head gears, slowly approaching Udemmiri. So I turned away, intent on tracing the path we were currently on.

Nene’s home was always different, lacking the little knick-knacks which spoke of modernization. A clock didn’t tick in her home, and the top of her home held no iron roofing sheets. It was a solid house lacking all adornments of the missionary, stuck in the ages my father sought to out run. The thatch, bamboos, and beautiful red mud adorned with chalk, uli, spoke of wealth, dignity; I loved it, it was nothing like my home. Sacred symbols glowed on walls of dark mud supposedly warding off the unclean, and surrounding it, stationed at the ends of the compound, were five smaller huts not lacking in adornment, but obviously less dignified than the one my eyes were stuck on. Their obi which was centered within their compound, not far away from where their main home stood, was in no way mediocre. It had everything my father stood against, and I loved it for that. Enclosing it all were walls made of raffia, twine, and bamboos, solid and expensive, rich, all carrying a feminine touch, something my father would have despised.