A Rare Touch of Nature Pt. 2

Good week everybody. And so we walked or should I say crept into the grove and took in the dense foliage that surrounded us. It kind of reminded me of the road to my late grandmother’s farm in the village with its sound of dripping leaves, chirping crickets and muddy floors in its dark enclave. We walked round the corner and suddenly came face to face with our prime location, the house.

It far exceeded what we envisioned. It was a lonely, ramshackle, and almost lopsided cemented hut that was truly in the middle of nowhere even though it was still close to the rest of the village. It had two windows and two doors that all hung open giving it a free rather than welcoming look. The tin roof had almost rusted through and scratches from small animals could be heard scurrying across it from where we stood. The hollowness of the sounds they made gave the indication of the absence of any insulating ceiling. It didn’t seem to matter though as the surrounding shrubs and trees ensured a permanent coolness in the area. Its isolation was almost as though its occupiers had been ostracised for some heinous crime they’d committed against their society. Two dwarf cows were tethered to a nearby tree in the bush and were surprisingly lovingly tended to by two veterinary doctors who gave one and then the other injections. A half naked woman stood behind them caressing the bigger cow’s hind quarters concernedly. It was my guess that the cow was female because the woman seemed to stroke it with an empathy only a female can bond with another.

She turned out to be the matron as she welcomed us to her home, asking us what we needed and when she could come back and have her home to herself. Her age was indeterminable because she looked wizened and her face bore the ravages of life’s hard toil. Her ribs showed through her stretched skin and her shrunken breasts showed that she had suckled many - I wondered how many. My mind went to my mum’s seven children feat and whose boobs still looked good even after we, especially the boys, had drunk our fill. Perhaps she’d lost many in infancy. A sixish year old child squatted on a stool on the raised veranda staring at us and I wasn’t sure if it was her son or grandson. I was brought back from my reverie by the costumier who brought my costume – a ‘filthy’ white t-shirt(which effect was achieved with mascara and women’s foundation make up), blue trousers and rubber bathroom slippers. Then the props man handed me the shovels and Sneeze asked me to go and dig my grave.

It had just begun raining and my character was supposed to be in a trance while being compelled to dig a grave in which he’d bury his wife(Chioma) and child by an evil sorceress (Uche). The grave had already been dug halfway leaving me to do the rest so I jumped in, confident the softening rain would make my work much easier – I was much mistaken. My tooth fillings were almost jarred loose from the shock that reverberated through my body. I looked at the spot the shovel struck, uncomfortably near my exposed toes – I shifted them back – hoping to see an exposed root the real diggers had omitted to remove, and saw only red earth. Squinting my eyes, I sneaked a look at the camera hoping it wouldn’t sense my discomfiture and proceeded to cheat by hacking at the much softer sides of the grave. All that mattered, as far as I was concerned, was to seen shovelling red earth from the hole and look authentic on camera. I had to shovel for another ten minutes, carry the corpse of my character’s son lay him in the grave, cut, wait till he climbed out again and, on the roll of the cameras begin shovelling the soil back into the grave to cover it. In revenge, when the director finally shouted “Cut”, I ran over to Sneeze to give him a big hug and it was fun watching him flee for his dear crisp clean clothes!

I still wince with a little when I raise my arms to do little chores but I still smile at the memory of being in that quaint rural village with its simple happy folks, leisurely goats, friendly cast and crew and physical hard work. Till next week then. Have a great week everybody

A Rare Touch of Nature

A very hearty good week to everybody. I don’t know how many times you have to hear my excuses for not putting up posts when I should but things just happen sometimes to upset the cart. Don’t worry, it’s not just you; Nkem’s been on my neck about my posts as well and I say I can’t get a good story sitting in my couch; I have to go out and get it. She’s so anal about me getting things done on time. She should give me some peace! Yeah right. Darn it! This means I have to tell a good enough story if I don’t want you guys eating me raw. Hm, let me see… Okay, here goes… Once upon a time two weeks past, when lizards had multiplied from ones and twos to hordes scurrying about scratching all over tin roofs and bobbying their heads over termite infested faggots for fuel, there was a young(ish) man who dared venture from his concrete hut in his concrete village screaming with mechanised wagons and bicycles to the much more serene and chirpy villages in the very borders of his living memory.

A tad melodramatic I know, so I’ll come down to earth in plain English. We went to shoot the bulk of a movie in the rural parts of Ogun state. It was supposed to be a sort of fantasy horror movie and we were looking for a very lonely derelict hut in the middle of nowhere. The director, Moses Iwang, whom we fondly call Sneeze – don’t ask me why – who, gladly, takes his work seriously, had insisted on a really spooky location to generate the eerie feel and to make the ‘crappy’ actors’ (us) work easier. The bloody nerve of him! This ‘aesthetic’ feel drove us from the comfort of our homes in Lagos to this remote village four hours away in our own cars! The upstart even had the nerve to leave his own car behind – it was too posh to go – and ride in Uche Jombo’s. The good thing is she made him drive for the entire duration of the shoot. Funny how much liberties people take when they know they are loved – and it does irk me to admit that he is good people.

We got there at about four in the evening, disembarked and looked around us. It was a peaceful village. There were no electric poles in sight and it was refreshing to see chickens pecking for food all over the place. I watched in amusement as a hen with her brood of chicks ‘snarled’ at one of the local dogs that ventured too near one of her errant children. It tucked its tail and slunk away and I couldn’t help wondering what the dog was thinking at the time. “Time was when you wouldn’t dare try that with me if not for these meddlesome humans who force this anomaly upon us.” Not too far away a large she-goat butted a much younger he-goat (probably her grandson) that had been amorously sniffing at her rear end. Half naked children played with wild abandon with one another while some older ones of ages nine to twelve herded docile looking cows to juicier pastures on the outskirts of the village. There weren’t many adults to be seen except for the nursing mothers and the aged men and women. It was quite easy to spot the aged women on account of the fact that they walked about topless, stretched triangular folds of skin flapping over their ribcages as they walked with still very sturdy legs. We stared bemused at them wondering why it took them so long to get their kits off. I guess they followed the maxim of exclusivity being the key to increasing demand. Perhaps they chose to bare their spent reserves as a reminder to the much younger ones of what fate had in store for them and for the discerning ones among them to make hay while the sun still shone.

After taking in our fill of the environment and making jokes (the silly Sneeze asked me to take a chance with one of the rare topless beauties and maybe I’d get lucky – idiot!), Chioma Akpotha even twitted about us time travelling back to 1935, we went off into the spooky grove to commence work. Sadly I have run out of the space allotted to me in this post so maybe I’ll talk about the rest next week so until then, do have a great week ahead guys! A bientot!