The greyish-green mould in place of what’s supposed to be grass
The stillness of the leaves on the trees
The scent of leaves and grass fill the air
The singing that came to a stop periodically
Everyone clothed in different attires looking all colourful
The loud beating of the drums following everyone accompanied with the lovely sounds of the trumpets
The usual chatter among the women
The bold looks on the face of the men
The subtle art of wearing sun shades even though you’re sitting under the protective shade of a canopy
The little children walking about in groups
They were the groups of children who carried sacks that were bigger than them with the hope of picking one or two cans probably for their mom or a neighbor who ran a zobo business
They were the children who walked about with trays on their heads hawking trying to earn a living
They were children who played with other children regardless of the fact that they’ve never met them before
And they were children who just simply stood… not moving just observing every tiny detail as if they were waiting for their moment to strike
And then there came the gunshots
One first…. Sending a chill down one’s spine
Followed by the consecutive three
And just when I thought it was about to rain , the sun began to shine
And then there’s the irony of some crying amid the jolly atmosphere
A group of not so elderly which I assume is the family parading about and shaking hands , waving and saying wadi even though they know deep down that half of the population present were not even invited
There’s people struggling and fighting over their share of what’s in store for them
Then there’s the people that the look on their faces screams “I really need to get out of here”
And there’s the people who actually take the bold step and walk out
But the more people go, the more people come in which makes it kinda hard to keep track
I’m pretty sure the guy with the microphone is passing some sort of information in Urhobo but my minds too preoccupied to listen
I’m busy asking myself why the catering crew are wearing matching uniforms and nose masks but then my thoughts are interrupted by a woman sharing crisp fifty naira notes
She was a fair plump woman with her hair weaves backwards and a grumpy look on her face
By this time I hadn’t realized I was staring until she shared cold at me and I quickly turned away
Lots of children gathering her cause of her display of affection by distributing crisp naira notes
At this time it’s safe to say the party is about to begin officially