Elyadirf1

SYNOPSIS 

I am held bound by the wonderful experience my Ground Mother,Madam Iyono Ajogo  bequeathed to me. 

A sound life nurtured by the way of nature. 

She is pragmatic,bold and down -to-earth. Instead of pampering as other grannies do. 

She was frank enough to tell me  to always go with her to the farm to drink the down dew, as we were sneaking through the wet ears of grass by the farm paths at dawn. 

She was telling me, ‘Fande’ , the derogatory pronoun of Friday. I loved that sound as it echoes through all the fabrics of my being. 

All my marrow resound the tone like thunder claps. 

She always say “Land has a language, listen to understand.”

"Child," she said, "the land is a living, breathing entity. It has a rhythm, a heartbeat that we must learn to listen to and respect." 

Claws Of Time, is a simple narrative, from one of her various pre occupations, farming. 

She was a trader, a herbalist and she has indulged so many women in her clime. 

The tribe she cultivated. She was highly honoured and respected in the community.
Through my granny, I was always full headed for every task.

 I began to see in the farm the interconnectedness of all things, how every creature and plant was inextricably linked, each one relying on the others for survival.

She brightened my horizon of viewing things on a new pedestals.

"This is a dung beetle," she said, holding it cupped in her palm. Making me see value in all things.

 She said,"It plays a crucial role in the health of our soil, breaking down organic matter and returning nutrients to the earth." 

This is my story of growing up under a firm granny, ain't I not lucky? She was a star. May her rest be blessed. 
Thank you, Mother Iyono Ajogo.

© El-yadirf Adokauhil.

CLAWS OF TIME.

And as I walked its fields, tended its crops, and nurtured its soil, I knew that I was not just a farmer, but a guardian, a keeper of a legacy that stretched back into the mists of time.

It was a responsibility that both humbled and empowered me, a calling that demanded my utmost attention and care.

And as the seasons turned, as the years passed, I knew that I would pour my heart and soul into this land, that I would do everything in my power to ensure its continued flourishing.

For the farm was not just a source of sustenance, but a sacred trust, a sacred bond that connected me to the land, to my ancestors, and to the generations that would come after.

And as I tended to its fields, nurtured its soil, and protected its bounty, I knew that I was not just a farmer, but a guardian of a legacy that would endure long after I was gone.

This profound glory of alliance with nature, and tapestry of existence got lost when I left the village setting for further education.

What did I get out of these nonpluses that exist in society?

We therefore lost our fame and the bearing to exist and impress our humanness on the collective will of improving who we are.

I lost the noble language, the earth and lustrous field and the attendant beings always ready to help us to advance our lot.

The deep-rooted identity forged through generations of intimate engagement with the land had been supplanted by a sense of disconnection and dislocation.

The rhythms and rituals that had once anchored my very being were now foreign to me, replaced by the frenetic pace and superficial values of urban life.

Yet, as I reflect back on those halcyon days on the farm, I am struck by a profound sense of longing.

For it is there, amidst the quiet contemplation of nature's cycles and the humble work of sustaining life, that I had truly felt alive, connected to something greater than myself.

It is a connection I yearn to recapture, to pass on to the next generation, so that they too may know the sacred trust of caring for the land and the enduring legacy it represents.

The key is to find ways, both big and small, to reintegrate the rhythms, rituals, and relationships of agricultural life into our daily existence.

By doing so, we can reclaim a sense of place, purpose, and connection that has been eroded by the breakneck pace of modern society.

Ultimately, the process of reconnecting with our agricultural roots is not just about nostalgia for the past.

A  vital step towards cultivating a more sustainable, equitable, and spiritually fulfilling future.

By integrating these agrarian practices and values into our modern lives, we can reawaken a sense of stewardship, community, and reverence for the land that sustains us.

Claws of Time.