Kindred

   "And so will the eternal cries of the village never cease..."
      With that and a loud sigh of relief I gladly end the final chapter of our school  horror themed literature text which was titled The Far End by Dr.Ike Freeman,I turn off the kerosine lantern near the edge of my sleeping mat I looked through the small wooden window out at the red skies of the evening before I stood up and brushed any floor dirt of my body.
           It was a day into the second week of the Mid-term Holidays which usually lasted about two weeks.
Initially I had been grateful to have enough a break from my tiring studies and wanted to enjoy my time off so much I even had a whole lot of my holiday planned out, however on the eve of my holiday I had my plans ruined.
     My mother had informed me that we would be going to her home village of Okorufie because she had a little family dispute to settle and we had to visit my ill father.

           To me this was a disaster not just because I know had to cancel my plans for the holiday but I know had to spend over a week in the village.

          Okorufie was a small town with a rough population of 3,000 people,it was located in the Niger Delta's of Nigeria and situated along the Delta's of the river Niger/Benue, Okorufie was a farming town at best with a society dependent on Agriculture. It had just a few other necessary infrastructure like a some commercial banks,a few filling stations an hospital and even a bio research centre which I had to admit was pretty impressive for a rural area.

   But aside that they was not much recreation to enjoy in Okorufie because power supply always fluctuated and we usually had issues with power which meant no tv or video games,not to mention I found it hard to relate with the other kids in the village. Though this was not my first time in the village,I had spent the first five years of my life in Okorufie but most of the friends I had then had already left the village for the city some years ago.

        Upon our arrival it hadn't been so bad because my mother's family really pampered and appreciated me a lot and I was happy with that,I had my cellphone to accompany for the first few days so I was okay,but then about four days before now my mother told me to visit my I'll father for a few days at least and I agreed because he won't see me again for long.

     Heron Iketu Haraneyi,my father was a pretty much in good health for a man is his late fifties,in terms of the village he was an "accomplished" man with two wives and six children with men my the third child overall and the first of my mother. He lived in the city early on his life and was very respected but in the end and to my mother and my disappointment he decided to return to the village and because a village priest.

   In Okorufie the Village Priest or "Dibia" was a form of spiritual empowered mouthpiece of the so called 'gods of our land',in the past the villagers would always the the Dibia to speak to the gods on their behalf and also receive messages from the gods,but in over the years this has changed since many of the villagers had adopted Christianity promoted by the St.Johns Catholic Church in Okorufie so the traditional worshippers were considerably fewer.
   

            But my father remained strong in his belief one of the reasons why my mother,me and my kid sister live far far away from him but either way he's my father so I have to see him once in a while especially as he is Ill.
          
      So coming back to the present,I stepped out of the house with looked beaten down over the years,and yawned while stretching and looking up at the evening sky. Through the small hallway I looked into my father's room which was dimly light up by the dying kerosine lantern near his bed.

     I move back into the house though the hall and into the kitchen where I had put some cups of water into the kettle and left to heat up up a bit,so I transfer it into a bucket and go I to my father's room with the bucket and a towel in hand.
     My father was very ill of a strong fever so I was instructed to give him his medications as well as massage his body with warm water every morning and evening so as to prevent his fever from causing a convulsion so i gently massage his body with the towel soaked in warm water then I give him his medicine and then I lay him down on the bed and put him to bed.
As I tucked him in he weakly opened his eyes enough to recognise me before he gave a soft smile and went back to sleep.
      I quickly clear up the room and take the towel and the bucket back to the restroom then I sweep the house clean and pack up the garbage bags in the house and head towards the backyard to dispose of them.
    I grab three large bags in total two on my left and one on my right,I open up the wooden door at the back of the house then I drop the bags at the corner near the door before I dust hands by clapping then together.
    I make my turn to go back inside and get prepared for the night but my gaze catches on my father 'shrine' we're he usually welcomed those seeking to commune with the gods.
The shrine was a small cramped wooden structure with several bamboo leaves and branches serving as the roof as well as white clothes tied all over it like curtains.
    That was when I realised I forgot one of the tasks my father always gave a particular task to keep an oil lamp light on at all times,it is said and believed that the lamp was sacred and that it signifies that our ancestors and guardians are still with us and if the flame were to go out our ancestors would lose their connection to us.