Member-only story
The Big Return
A full day’s account of my triumphant return to my hometown
The four-member crowd balloons to 11. Many of the new entrants are elderly men with varying lengths of chewing sticks in their mouths.
Farmers in tattered clothes and worn-out wellington boots walk past. A few greet us with a curtsy, to which we respond in unison. I admire the sharp cutlasses some of them have in hand.
Others have the occasional excited dogs for company. As dogs, their role is to hunt down any rat or squirrel around the farm. They love it because of the perks they get from every catch: the entrails, and maybe the bones.
From dog to man, everyone loves the farming experience.
My dad summons me for a quick errand. Upon my return, I find the elders admiring a white hen with about 13 tender chicks chipping after her, a breathtaking display of nature.
A rangy gentleman spotting a yellow jersey and grey oversized pants pushes an old bicycle past. The front carrier of his bike packs slender bottles of cheap perfumes, a few black and brown faux leather belts, and kids’ shoes.
I stay off the liquor sloshing around: the look on their faces after every sip doesn’t inspire me. The elders try to get me to pour a half glass, but I tell…
