If you ever paid a visit to my village, you will find everyone dancing about their ways. Naturally, having come a long way, you will pop your ears to release the pressure and tune in to the local frequency but alas! all you will get is static. To put you at ease, there is no music. This is the rhythm of life here, and I would advise you to adopt to it fast. Get a jig into your head and start dancing around, for keeping your feet in one spot for too long will lead to wild mushrooms springing from your shoes, some form of algae materializing on your arms and legs and you might soon find yourself static, rooted to Mother Nature with only your eyes darting about.
I once was sprung from my shifty siesta by a loud engine, possibly a truck, and being in a place where people rush out to see cars, I rushed out in time to spot a military truck, full of soldiers in full regalia, headed somewhere down the valley. It was muddy, and that made it easy for me and about a dozen other boys to keep up while giggling and doing thumbs up to some very stone faced soldiers seated behind the truck. Soon, it came to a halt at a home and the men jumped out, smarted themselves about and with grim faces, quietly retrieved a coffin from the truck. Our giggles suddenly dried up. One of their colleagues had passed on and they had brought him home to rest. The soldiers filed into the compound in a two neat lines, and stood to their attention as the family and friends assembled for the service. For an hour, the soldiers stood rooted in their spot.
Unknown to them, another army, in much larger numbers was quietly marching up from the earth. Even from a distance, I could see the tiny safari ants snaking their way, in uneven columns, up the shiny boots to disappear beneath their trousers, the men did not flinch. I froze, I could imagine the trail heading up my own knees, and so I stamped my feet. None of them even glanced. I could now see the ants occasionally zigzag around their belt buckles and up their tunic but the men did not move, surely, they must have spotted or felt numb from the tiny little bites as the ants marched up their chests, but the men did not seem to notice. Soon, you could spot the ants hanging from their bites on the men’s cheeks, their earlobes, gosh! they must have hanging from many other places too! but the men did not even blink. I was beginning to have a lot of faith in our army.
It was not until the service was over that the neat column hastily broke up, with the men dashing into a nearby maize plantation, and from a distance, you could spot a shirt, or trouser flapping just above the flower heads. I stamped my feet and headed home.