The boy washed the globe with hands stretched deep inside the bowl of soapy water. He stood on a low stool in order to get that far. He twisted the tap knob and placed the glass under the gushing water, to remove soap suds from it. He turned to peer through the window several times as he worked. Voices were calling to him.
Outside, the voices of playing children ran about, like nocturne's song. The sky was a purple bruise with the pink satin skin of an old scab just on the edge of the horizon, where the sun just fell. The voices of crickets intermingled with the children's play. A big moon poured light on the white beach sand in front of the house. It was on this slice of a sea shore, the children built their empires of sandcastles, raced insects, dug their palm fronds huts and tested their dexterity trying to win an opponent's rubber band.
Everyone moved around proud of the number of rubber bands amassed from rigorous competitions. Flipflops were also a commodity too. If you had a strong pair, your chances of flipping a large number of rubber bands increased. It was a cutthroat world, more competitive than the Olympic games.
To one side, some boys tried their skills at flips, handstands, cartwheels and all sort of athletic movement. If not for the moon hanging like a suspicious mother's torchlight in the sky, one would think the children were preparing for interschool sports or some athletic event. The boy knew all of these things and he could not wait to join with the rest. He was there, winning some much needed rubber bands which he intended to prance about with at school the next time he went to school when the sight of his mother at the door, silently watching him, reminded him of the lantern sitting on the dinning table, dim with the soot of last night's light.
For two weeks, the power authority had simply ignored them and it was either the kerosene lantern or candles. After hearing of how a family almost burned their house when they slept off with a candle on near curtains, his father had insisted they get kerosene for the lantern instead of candles. His mother was adamant though. Kerosene is expensive, she insisted. She had sent him on an errand in the afternoon, to get pawpaw sticks, the bigger the better. He knew what she wanted them for.
He has seen her make candles before. She gathers used candle wax, melts it in a pot, gets a tiny twine which she inserts inside the pawpaw stick. When the wax has turned to liquid, she pours it through the mouth of the pawpaw stick. Once it is dry, she cuts the pawpaw stick and inside it, a brand new candle. The boy carried the cleaned globe like the sacrament to where the lantern sat. Then gently, he inserted the glass into the basket that served as its holder then he raised the chimney of the lantern and pushed the basket home.
The boy checked to see if there was kerosene in the lantern. There was enough so he screwed the cap of the kerosene tank locked and went out through the half opened front door. He arrived just in time to meet everyone singing;
"Make a big circle!
Like your mother's cooking pot!"
He forced himself into the wide circle and linked his arms with the persons on either side of him. A voice in the night sang;
"Abalaka said to me fullstop
I leave in calabar fullstop
I always go fishing
together with the women
Abalaka said to me
fullstop fullstop
comma comma
fullstop"
Whoever the last fullstop touched stepped out of the circle and so it went on until the boy's mother came out and called the boy in for dinner. He had to bathe first and get dressed in his bedclothes, with lots of powder on his face and neck, before he could eat. As he ate, the power came on and several voices screamed in the night;
"Dem don bring light!!"
But the boy did not scream, although he felt the urge to do so. His father frowned at such behaviour and though he was not yet back from work, his spirit hung above him, watching him dare to make the mistake. Besides, the boy believed that if you named a thing it failed, so naming the return of power can lead to the power being cut off again. So he kept quiet, ate his food and hoped and prayed his parents would let him see the late night movie. After all, tomorrow was Saturday; no school, no church, just chores. The boy smiled to himself. The moon smiled too.
I just stumbled upon this and it has brought home so many memories. Nostalgic in fact. There is something about the way you write. It's conjuring like magic. This is the sweetest part of my night today.
Awwww 💕💕💕💕 👍🏿🤗. Thank you for these kind words. I appreciate them a lot.
You are welcome.
Wow, I love the story. While reading, it so reminded of my childhood days. Childhood is fun, different activities keep kids so engaged. Mostly that period when there is full moon, everybody plays at night like it's daybreak.
I know right. Those where good days though, free of care. Thanks for stopping by.
Your story is so well-written. It’s full of culture.
🥺This brings so many memories. It’s so Nigerian.
Indeed! 🥳🤗Thanks for stopping by.
😊It was my pleasure.
😊It was my pleasure.
I’m smiling with the moon, too. Beautiful 🤩 story, full of light. 🤗❤️💕❤️❤️🤗
Amin. It is what I hoped for. Trying to stir myself away from darkness. 😔
This is beautiful story, @warpedpoetic. It gives us a window in the world of a boy whose family resources are slim, and who lives in a place where there may be power, or there may not, and each day is a tumultuous mix of family responsibilities, playing with friends, and perhaps hoping the next day will be a better day.
Thank you for sharing your story in The Ink Well! We'd like to remind you that we expect everyone who publishes in our community to read and comment on at least two other stories for each one published. You will find this in our community rules. And engagement in the community is considered as we curate and choose stories to highlight. Thank you!
Yeah nobody knows what tomorrow brings. maybe he will get to play, maybe not. Maybe there will be power,maybe not. Tomorrow still comes though. 😔
The outage of power has been the muse of many stories. At the way things are going this winter this story may become the story of many families in the world with no power.
!LUV
This is a very grim possibility. In my part of the world, power outages is the norm not the exception. We are used to the noise of power generating sets and a lot of foreign companies involved in supplying alternative and individualistic power generators are cashing out from this. I hope no one gets to have this as a constant in their lives. It sucks especially in this age, where almost everything needs power to function. 😔
Thanks for stopping by. 🤗
@mineopoly(2/10) gave you LUV.
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