Growing from infanthood to childhood was something we all
looked forward to. It included being allowed by our parents to go and fetch
water from the nearby ‘Nworie’ river. Fetching water was part of the fun trips
in the Egesimba’s Estate, another which we indulged in was going to throw away
the house- hold waste at the erosion ditch that served as refuse dump site for
the neighbourhood. (Story for another day). Being old enough to go to the
stream was a beginner stage, actually getting to carry water with a bucket was
another stage-the intermediary stage because beginners as a norm carried two and a half (21/2 ) litres jerry
can. Let the initiation begin. The advanced stage consists of children and
teenagers who carried all sorts of buckets ranging from plastics to metal and
even cooking pots, these containers came in varying sizes. All these served as
appetizers. The main goal was in the actual carrying of the containers.
Balancing the bucket was the main ritual in the rite of
passage ceremonies. To enter into the big boys/girls league, you have to be
able to carry your bucket on your head with your hands swaying proudly by your
sides. Before being able to carry your bucket, you will have to learn how to
fold your rag as a comfortable rest for your container. ‘Igwo aju’ as it is
called in the local parlance looked easy to any onlooker but it is a skill to
be learnt not inherited. You learn from those already in the game. When one has
perfectly mastered the ‘Igwo aju’ act, he/she moved to the balancing of bucket
technique, no bucket can balance comfortably without its rest, they were like
the male and female adaptors.
This ritual involves lots and lots of practice, like every
other practical, samples had to be used and some dumped, the experiments have
to be gone over till a perfect result was gotten, just like trying to
neutralizing and acid , you keep adding the base and testing with your ‘pH-meter’
till the desired pH is attained. In the case of the ritual, you have to keep
trying and trying, no matter how many times we failed, we came out more
determined to be masters over our buckets of water. Gosh! Who knows how many
buckets we broke just to join the trend? How many buckets were sacrificed just
for the desires of our hearts, we kept lusting for our goal, the scolds from
our parents couldn’t deter the single- minded children. We had the elephant
grasses to tie, and when all else failed, we stiffened our hearts and bodies. The
passion for the cliques burnt so hot and bright, couldn’t be quenched till
there was nothing to consume. Then and only then can we be stopped- The Lords.
Yes, we deserved the title, our goals have been conquered, fetching water was
no more a task, carrying our buckets bore no more fear, our parents got angry
no more cos the water kept coming without delay.
No dream is ever actualized without a sacrifice, there’s
always a price to pay, there are always buckets to be broken, and it doesn’t
matter how many you break, just pick up all its pieces and take home, come out
again to try harder and if possible, break more buckets. The end they say-
justifies the means. There really shouldn’t be an end to our goals, I think we
should remain insatiable, always longing for more, always doing more- like the
biblical 70 x 7 times. When your bucket of water seats comfortably on your
head, and your arms rest by your sides, your face beams with smiles. You become
the envy of your counterparts and the hero of the upcoming, and most
importantly, you become the future you dreamt about.
BREAKING MY BUCKETS……..
