RED LEAF INSPIRATION - PART 2

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!)

 

After many years of anticipation, the family and I finally made it to Niagara Falls. 

It is absolutely breathtaking.  I bet that most Canadians have become jaded when it comes to seeing the “Falls”, but I don’t believe I ever would.  It’s a bit overwhelming being that close to such a powerful body of water.  The effect is very different from being at say Virginia Beach and the railings that warn of danger to the fools’ stupid enough to attempt to go over, didn’t seem tall enough. But they were. J  The closer we got to the water, the colder it got.  I can’t begin to imagine what it’s like over there during the dead of winter. SHIVERRR!!! Spring at the “Falls” is tolerable, but my hands pretty much cramped up when I took pictures of the fam. Father Winter still rules in Canada.

 

When I looked down to where the water fell, I felt like I was in an episode of National Geographic.  Below was one of the biggest blocks of ice I have EVER seen.  I compare it to a giant glacier at the North Pole.  (No I’ve never been there LOL, but that’s the best I can do.) With everything that we saw there, one thing that stood out was the thunderous sound of the “Falls” as they hit the water below.  As caught up as I was with god’s spectacle, I still managed to think of the story I created last week. “Orun”.

As I mentioned, both tribes (the Ina and awọn dudu) believe that a deity carved steps into the side of the mountain with his finger but took it away when the tribe members stopped worshipping him. When you visualize such a scene, what comes to mind?  Here’s my vision:

 

It has been over 200 years since the destruction of Mount Ase. It is said that the gods were angry and took back their gift because we were not grateful for all they gave to us.  As a result, they took away our light.  The awọn àgba, elders, have shared and passed on this story with the hope that our people will one day search for the light once more.  I have never believed in the existence of a colored shape that gives heat.  My life, my world, consists of never ending gloom and a cold, unyielding sky.

These thoughts that I have, take so much energy from me.  Instead of suffering through the monotony of my life, I could be sleeping, dreaming of a better place.  If there is such a thing as day and night, I have never experienced it.  I sleep not because it is dark, but because my body tells me when to rest.

 

But when the elders describe what once was, a story that has been passed down through generations, I can almost visual it.  The clouds above us part. Bright beams of light cut through the gloom and return life back to our frigid land.  As I know such a thing will never happen, I can only see their past through their eyes.

 

The elders have demanded our appearance and attention.  Their word is law.  We celebrate (or they celebrate, our past). My children, who have energy to spare, run ahead of me to get the best seats. My people gather around a colossal tree that has grown so high that it is the only thing that has ever reached beyond the clouds.  Its limbs are as bare as my skin and yet it stubbornly holds on to life. 

 

My children want to be as close to the elders as possible.  It is said that they are of magic.  The children swear that they can see pictures each time the elders share their story.  My little one said that “the shape was a color called yellow and the ground was a color called green.” She said that, “there were trees that bared a thing called fruit and if you tilted your head up towards the sky, you could feel warmth on your face.”

 

It vexed me to hear my daughter talk in such away.  In my heart, I felt that the elders were wrong to tell such stories to our children. To give them hope where there was none.  When I look up, all I see is where the mountain ends and the sky begins.  My eldest daughter is disappointed in me.  “She asks, “How can you see what we see, when you do not believe?”

 

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Fam, I’m looking forward to hearing from you. If you were an elder of a tribe of people, how would you keep the history of your people alive?  How would you tell your story? I would love to hear it! Come on by next week as I continue. J

Mari e laipe!
See you soon!
 

S-

 

*****

 

Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J

RED LEAF INSPIRATION

Ek'abo Ebi! (Welcome Family!) 

It’s 1:30 in the morning and the family and I are in route to Ontario (Canada to be specific).  I can feel it. It’s excitement rolling off of my boys. As tired as they are, they are giddy with the thought of going somewhere different for spring break. This will be their first foray outside the U.S. and hopefully not their last. 

Looking at their passports, I am tickled by their expressions.  I was informed that they could not smile when posing for the photos.  This was a task, as two out of three always made it difficult for the other to be serious.  There was giggling, there was snickering and I’m sure that a few silly faces were being made behind my back.  But they managed nonetheless. LOL!

As we drove through Pennsylvania, I watched as daylight spread across the sky, but it did not bring the sun with it. The inclement weather brought with it a foggy landscape that freaked me out as I could barely see the road ahead of us.  Thank goodness for white lines.  To my left and right my boys and I saw what looked like the bodies of two huge creatures that had not awakened from their nightly slumber.  (I know, it’s a pretty fanciful thought but it was 6:30 in the morning and I was running on very little rest).  At a second glance, the outline of the mountains, (the Alleghenies) became clear.

 

We were 1,200 feet above sea level which explains the clogging of my ears and the weird cloud formations that looked like a sea of stratus and ripped, white cloth.  Looking at the clouds made me think of tales of mystical lands, where the villagers lived above and below the clouds. 

I gave them names. They would be known as the Ina (Yoruba for Light) and awọn dudu, (Yoruba for The Dark). The Ina would be exposed to the sunlight and awọn dudu would wish for it.  Fanciful, early morning, lack of rest … hey it happens. LOL!  I thought that this would be a great idea for a new story.

 

I think I will call it “Orun” which means sunlight in Yoruba.

The people of the Ina will be equally miserable as the people of awọn dudu. Though blessed with the sunlight, the Ina never experience night and therefore survives with little or no sleep.  Their skin and hair will be toasted brown.  But the dark circles under their eyes make them look like the little, dark eyed, grey-brown mammals that were once indigenous to their home.

They will wear protective clothing to protect them from the sun’s rays.  Most members of the tribe will be short-tempered and angry.  Their lack of rest makes it hard to concentrate. Each day they search for ways to get below the clouds.  Their path is barred due to an earthquake that occurred hundreds of years ago.  It destroyed the steps that were etched into the side of the mountain. Both tribes believe that a deity carved the steps into the side of the mountain with his finger but took it away when the tribe members stopped worshipping him.  The Ina and awọn dudu, traded goods and services in the past and would have been happy people. 

The awọn dudu on the other hand, will be slow-witted, lethargic and pale as the clouds that hover endlessly above their heads.  They sleep too much and lack the energy and/or interest in doing more.  The awọn dudu do just enough to survive. Protective clothing is just as important to them as the climate is much colder below the clouds.  Hundreds of years would have passed since they’ve last seen the sunlight and only the elders will still believe in its existence.  The tribe members will long for warmth, but they’ll show no curiosity in what lies above or ahead.  The youth on the other hand, listen to the stories told by the elders, believe there is truth to them and search for a way to reach the sun. 

Family I put the ball in your court.  I would love to hear your ideas on this story.  What steps will the Ina take to reach below?  What steps will the youth of the awọn dudu take to reach the sun?  Will they meet half way?  Will people lose their lives in the process?  Looking forward to hearing your thoughts and or suggestions!! 

Mari e laipe!

See you soon!  

S-

*****

Thanks for visiting ‘Amachi is Hope.’ If you were inspired or felt a connection with today’s blog (or any of my previous entries) please leave a comment. J