UNDERNEATH THE ALMOND TREE IN OUR COMPOUND__DAILY PROMPT 12TH OCTOBER

Today's #dailyprompt is underneath the almond...

Underneath the almond tree in our compound, my mama buried my name.

I was 7 years when I first noticed it. That almond tree behind the kitchen, the one with big leaves that we used to pack akara. Every time I climbed it, mama would shout "Come down! You no go see wetin dey underneath!"

I thought she meant ants.

I was 16 when she finally told me.

"Your chi lives there," she whispered one night when NEPA took light and rain was falling. "When you were born, you did not cry for three days. The old dibia said we should bury your umbilical cord and your first cry underneath the almond tree, so the earth will hold your voice."

I laughed. "Mama, na superstition."

She did not laugh. "Go dig if you doubt."

I did not dig. Until last week.

Mama died last month. And since then, I have not been able to write. Not one word. My pen is dry. My market no move. My Hive post no get idea.

So yesterday, I carried small cutlass and went underneath the almond tree. The ground was soft from rain. I dug.

I did not see cord. I saw small clay pot, covered with red cloth. Inside, small paper. My handwriting — but from when I was 5 years old.

It said: "When I grow up, I want to be a story teller."

I sat there under the almond tree and cried. Because I had forgotten.

My mama did not bury my name. She buried my dream, so it would grow. Like almond seed.

I carried the pot to my room. Today, I am writing again.

Sometimes what we are looking for in Lagos, in Abuja, in Hive trending page, is just underneath the almond tree in our father's compound.

IMAGE AI GENERATED