The Twin Capital of the World

Are you kidding me Ryta?

If I ask you to take a wild guess of the town that has the highest number of twin birth in the told what will be your guess? As you thinking about that, let me tell you a little story… once upon a time in 2011 I was posted to Oyo State for National Youth Service Corpse Service to serve my dearly beloved Nigeria.  I was excited because I had long yearned to wear khaki.

At NYSC Orientation Camp; Isenyi 

Anyways, the three weeks spent in NYSC orientation camp located at Isenyi, Oyo state was a beautiful experience. It is funny how most graduates’ longs for NYSC even when they have no inclination of why NYSC was instituted. I honestly appreciated the initiative of our leaders in instituting NYSC as this gives every Nigerian graduate the opportunity to serve the nation for one calendar year.  This service is aimed at fostering cultural integration and unity through diversity judging from our multi-cultural background as a nation. (You may not agree with me though)

Posting Letter

I was not really particular about serving in the capital city of Oyo state (Ibadan), I did not mind being posted in any of the 33 Local Government area in Oyo state. Whenever my friends asked me where I will like to be posted for my PPA (Place of Primary Assignment) I always replied “wherever, so long there is light, internet, water and road I’m good”. I’m not sure I meant it though, that was just the answer that came easily to me. At the end of the three weeks, I received my posting letter and it read “Idere, Ibarapa Central Local Government Area”.  Ibarapa Central has two towns, villages sorry (Igbo-Ora and Idere). From some of Yoruba friends in camp, I was told that “Igbo” meant ‘bush’. I was not put off by that though. I quickly located the vehicle that was to convey my fellow compatriots and I. and off we went.

The Journey from Iseyin to Ibarapa Central

The journey took us 60 minutes although it seemed like 60 hours. I saw a lot of bushes, I was still not perturbed, “we will soon get to the town babe” I encouraged myself. I sat by the window so I busied myself my admiring some of the birds that flew by. I closed my eyes at some point to drink into nature.

You are Welcome to Igboora, the Nation’s Home of Twins

As I flipped open my eyes, I was greeted with the inscription “You are Welcome to Igboora, The Nation’s Home of Twins” this followed by shouts of ‘welcome’ by previous batches of corps serving in Ibarapa Central Local Government called me back to reality. My first reaction to the environment was that of disdain. Although I never attempted to influence my posting but at that point I did not know whether to regret my decision or be excited. “Dear Lord! What am I doing here? You mean I will be stuck here for the next 12 months?” I muttered loud not aware of the tears streaming freely down my cheeks. “kopa welcome. To our land; the home of twin” a kind looking man said to me. I managed to flash him a smile. “Home of twins indeed; who cares?” I muttered inaudibly.

My First shocker

The shouts of jubilation from the house next to the coppers lodge where we putting up for the night drew our attention.  News reached us that a woman just gave birth to her fourth set of twins. My eyes almost bulged out “are you kidding me” I blotted out as I could not contain my amazement. Out of curiosity, I mobilized some of my colleagues and we went to pay the family a visit. Sorry I did not tell you that corpse members are highly respected, it was like an August visit. One of my colleagues, Alex surprised said “Is the same person that was sulking a while ago?”

Igboora; Twin Capital of the World 

It turned out to be a memorable twelve months. Each day was adventure for me. I appreciated culture and NYSC first hand.  Not joke, you will not find a household without at least a set of twin. It is their pride and heritage. Research into multiple births carried out at Lagos's University Teaching Hospital has suggested that a high level of a chemical found in the Yoruba women and the peelings of the tuber could account for the high level of multiple births. A consultant gynecologist at the hospital explains: “These substances are usually linked to the release of more than one egg, which usually leads to twin pregnancies. That means that there is possibly an environmental factor that encourages the high level of this chemical substance.”

My Favourite meal; Amala and Ilasa

You can trust that Amala and Ilasa became my favourite meal through my stay there. I consumed it as though there was no tomorrow. I told all my friends and family about it. I pitched its effect to anyone that cared to listen to me. I was disappointed when I was told that the effect was only seen on bona fide sons of the soil that the probability that non indigenes will give birth to twins after consuming Amala and Ilasa was very slim. You can imagine my disappointment. “Why did you not tell me early enough” I quarreled with them when they told me few weeks before passing out.  

So? What about the Twin Capital of the World?

It may seem like another story, but this is phenomena that is worthy of recognition. The question I asked myself through my stay there as a corpse member is “how do we preserve this yam? How do we replicate this outside? Can’t this place be a research institute? Can’t this natural endowment deliver revenue to this people? What story do we tell from this? What can we do about this? What can our government do about this? If cultural innovation is a true concept, what innovation can stem out this phenomenon? How do we tell this story?

My fears?

Should this yam go out of extinction, will history forgive us for not preserving and sustaining Amala and Ilasa.  

Written by Ryta Moemeke

08034896979

ritamoemeke@gmail.com

On the Path to Afikpo River

“Mama tell us another story” Ifeoma and I tugged at the hem of grandma’s wrapper like Oliver Twist. “Ok, this will be the last for tonight” Grandma said. “I will tell you two a story of a scene I witnessed on my way to Afikpo river long time ago when I was still a girl. It’s a story of two lovers; Chukwuka and Ada” she pauses for moment. “Guess who they are now?” Grandma asked us. “My ears are itching Grandma” Ifeoma said impatiently. “The Obi of Owa and his Alasi” Grandma said in a voice so tender and eyes glistening with memories as though she was unleashing some top secret.

 “A long time ago while walking through the path that led to Afikpo River on my way to the farm, I witnessed the inception of a love story that still lives” Grandma began. “Ada an ebony skinned girl in her prime was then our village belle. The meticulously knotted skimpy wrapper that she ties round her waist accentuates her curves. The beads she wears on her waist and ankles dances rhythmically whenever she moves her body that she carries with the agility of a tiger and with the pride of a peacock. The empty water pot she is carrying to the river sits perfectly as though it was glued to her head as she makes no effort to support it with her hand. ‘I don’t like the way Udo beats up my sisters’ Ada tells Chukwuka. ‘I have been warning him, but it seems obvious my warnings have been falling on deaf ears. Chisom came crying to me this morning just before I left for the river that Udo forcefully took from her the okpa mama gave to her’ Ada complains to Chukwuka. ‘He is fortunate he did not know me when I was a tom-boy, I would have left him with a missing tooth and a broken jaw not mindful he is a prince’. ‘I have always known you to be a mother hen that jealously guards her chicks. I will remind Udo when I get home to steer clear the Ikemefuna sisters to avoid the wrath of mother hen’. “Chukwuka takes a quick bow like a chivalric knight”. Grandma continued “They both kept stealing glances at each other. On getting to the cross road that leads to their various destination, they parted ways reluctantly. In a bid to steal a last glance, Ada turns her head and catches Chukwuka stealing a glance too. Looking away abruptly, her empty water pot falls on a log and shatters. Bending to gather the remains of her broken pot, Chukwuka came bending beside her to help out, their eyes lock in a passionate stare. Watching as a lone spectator, I knew the rest would be history”

There Must be a Difference Ayanfe...

We time

“We time” for Nkem and I is that that time of the day when we relieve the day’s experiences together on phone. For us it is a culture.  At “We time” for Nkem and I lash out on each other if occasion demands, cry together, laugh over everything laughable, agree in prayer when we can’t handle it, fight each… the rule is that at both end, non goes to bed with any unresolved issue. Duration of the call @ “We time” is not the priorities; top on the list for us is that quality time.

Tonight’s “we time”

“We time” tonight had a unique tone. The tone was so passionate that I could almost touch it. It was phenomena, revealing and deep. After teasing, taunting and laughing at each other, I felt it was time to kiss goodnight.  I asked in a rather casual tone,“Is anything on your mind? “I think I had wanted to say “Can we call it a night?” little did I know that the call was about to begin “Yes baby. I have been mulling over a thought for the past few days. I have been asking myself a very critical question”. Adjusting myself, I asked playfully but really curious “What am I missing out?” “Pardon me baby, I planned communicating it to you after coming to a conclusion. I just came to a conclusion this evening.” With his deep but breathy voice Nkem asked me…

The hot seat

Is there any benefit serving in God? I mean can you really say with all sincerity to yourself that there is a difference between you and that colleague of yours that is not saved?” ‘Dear God! Someone is backsliding’. I thought to myself. Thank goodness he did not hear that, maybe that might have cut the flow. (I forgot to tell you that Nkem was on his way to an all-night prayer meeting in church when we had this conversation). “Hello! Baby, are you still there” he asked me after few seconds of elapsedsilence “Oh! Were you expecting an answer from me? I thought it was a rhetorical question?” I mustered trying to regain composure. “I need to hear your opinion before I share with you my conclusion”. Clearing my throat “What makes me different from an unbeliever is the hope of Christ in me. It is that inner peace that I feel, that eternal hope” I said. “I understand that we have an eternal hope baby” he said sounding unconvinced.“Let’s put it this way” reframing the question, he said “Do you expect to have a different result from an unbeliever? If yes why?“more composed this time, I answered “well, following natural principles, when a person believer or non-believer is diligent, hardworking, committed to a cause, he will certainly be a success just like the law of sowing and reaping, but I will not expect us to have same result with someone that does not know God even if we put in same input because… because I know God”.

“You are close it baby. Let’s assume that I am that your colleague. I am very learned, smart and have the smell success, way more successful than you, but I don’t care about God.   How do you logically convince me beyond reasonable doubt that I need to be saved; that I need what you have?” I racked my brain a little more, sat up this time. “I don’t need to see any visible difference to know that, I just know we are not the same and God knows that also”.  After some moments of silence, Nkem asked in a voice pulsating with energy and fervor “How do you articulate this difference?” 

The Eureka Moment

I held the closer to my ears not to allow any word fall down. “that difference between you and that normal guy out there that does not know God cannot be communicated nor expressed, it is manifested. You must manifest that difference baby. That is ourlogical proof and flag that declares us believers in this smart and paced age that we live in.” God is the father of all, but sons and daughters have that extra. That extra magnifies your natural effort and put you above. You must demand for it baby. Don’t expect to always stand at the same pedestal with every regular child of God. If you don’t know this truth and have it as a deep conviction, you will lose your identity. Expect a difference, demand for it and manifest it. There just have to be a difference! Oh no. I’m being warned that I have limited airtime”. Exhaling “Pardon me love for boring you tonight” “did you say bore?” “We will talk tomorrow Ayanfe, let me quickly goodnight before the service provider does that for me…” “Hello! Hello!” I called out “Oh!  my battery just died” I spoke out loud!...

What is Culture? 

When I was in primary school, I was taught that “culture is the way of life of the people”. It came to me so easily. I crammed the definition and never hesitated to reproduce it on occasions I was asked “what is culture?” When we got to secondary school, the definition of culture got a little beef up; “culture is the cumulative deposit of knowledge, experience, beliefs, values, and attitudes.” hmmm! That was a little mouthful but I found my way around it. Trust me I was good at cramming. It poured it back to them at my junior WAEC. Little wonder I came out with distinction! (Don’t ask for my result) The definition took another twist when I got into the university. GST (Generation Studies) gave me a rather vague definition of culture “culture consists of patterns, explicit and implicit, of and for behavior acquired and transmitted by symbols, constituting the distinctive achievement of human groups, including their embodiment in artifacts; the essential core of culture consists of traditional ideas and especially their attached values; culture systems may, on the one hand, be considered as products of action, on the other hand, as conditioning influences upon further action”. I managed to survive this definition. After several attempts at cramming it, I gave up. I can’t remember though if “what is culture” was asked in the exam, I sure could have told them my primary school definition. Anyways I passed the exam As I immersed myself a little more into studies at post graduate, the definition of culture lost colour. I learnt that “culture is communication; communication is culture”. How do I explain to my little niece that came home with the assignment “what is culture?” How do I communicate to her that “culture is communication and communication is culture?” Maybe if it is broken down, the meaning may come through to us. What is communication? Communication is an exchange of information between a sender and receiver through a channel. If culture is communication, who then is the sender and who is the receiver and what message is being transmitted through what channel? (Oh please don’t loose me; I am trying to make it as simple as I can). Role call- Let make the sender the society which comprises of institutions like, the family, the schools, the church/mosque, etc and then the receiver as You and I. Let’s put the message as the kind of food we eat, our dress code etc which forms our beliefs, taboos, norms and value. They disseminate this message through print, radio, family gatherings, festivals etc… The Aha! Moment- What is culture really? Not many of us have given it a taught. I agree with the later definition that culture is communication. Putting many dots together, I see how it all connects now. The Americans have born and indoctrinated (not in the negative sense) that America is the world. This notion have been communicated to them through institutions like the family, school, Hollywood etc and this belief and value for America have become their way of life. Every developed nation today have that value, belief, norms that have been communicated over and over again through institutions and the feedback that we all se today is seen in their way of life. Lesson- Now I can confidently tell my little niece that “culture is communication and communication is culture”. I will deliberately drive some virtues into her; until those virtues becomes her values and beliefs that she holds dearly and reflects in her way of life; I will not stop until communicating to her until she too becomes a nation builder. I am sure when she gets to school tomorrow and she asked “what is culture” her hands will be flung up high…