Chapter 8: Reeds, Salt, and Daydreams

Since he no dey farm, wild spirit papa, out of boredom, carry me go strip all the reeds for village.

People dey ask say, "Na who dey clear bush like this?" We just dey waka, dey gather all wey we fit carry.

We even find like twelve wild duck eggs, I hold am for chest like gold. Na real treasure for this side. I dey hide am make village boys no steal am.

Back house, he do the same thing, grind dry reeds, make dry grey salt. My fingers red, but my mind sweet. I dey learn small small.

I taste am—true, e salty. My tongue bend, I dey nod head. Na real salt, pass market own.

Last time, when he treat my sickness, no be Mama silver pin he use, na this reed salt. I dey remember how e mix am with leaf, put for my tongue, make me better quick quick.

“My pikin, when I sell this salt, I go buy us new cloth, go enjoy for palm wine joint, the rest buy donkey or goat—then we go waka the world together, haha!”

He dey daydream, dey talk like pikin. For my mind, I dey laugh, dey wonder if this journey fit happen.

I just shake head. I dey pray say e go fit use money well, no go drink all for palm wine joint.

E get another wahala for head. Sometimes e dey act like small pikin, sometimes like old man. I just dey follow am, dey learn patience.