“MY LEAVE HOLIDAY”

         Getting approval for my annual leave was a little protracted, all thanks to management’s continuous deferment for which they claimed official contingencies. Time frittered and at a point I thought management was playing official pranks because it has been one deferment too many. I was almost at my wits end when the approval was granted, with management directive to “proceed immediately”.

My joy knew no bounds despite the expedient directive; after all, I have been on a somewhat endless wait for this. My excitement actually hinged on the abundant time I would have to myself; the ‘juicy’ leave allowance to part with also – a supposed blessing of accumulated leave periods. I have worked five years at a stretch traversing cities and nations for official duties, except for occasional “days off”.  It’s all fun though, especially working for a highly rated corporate organization replete with diverse benefits and career prospect. But as my father would always say “he who eats much kernel for its sweetness should be ready to embrace stomach ache”. I needed rest and so badly too.

For about ninety days I would be free from work hassles. My attention would be on anything but official duties. The daily hustle and bustle and weekend encroachment would take a break. No stress and deadline pressures. No endless weekly management briefs – my biggest nightmare at work. No frequent or sudden travels, no early rise and late closure at work - most times to beat the teething city traffic. No endless drinking of coffee and eating junk food because of time constraint; at least within this leave period.

The euphoria of my leave approval didn’t quite settle calls and messages streamed from close associates. They made suggestions for exotic places I could maximally spend my leave holiday. Understandably they were not out of place, considering my job position and well-off status. My bank account was “very much alive” and with an accumulated leave allowance, I could comfortably afford even a VIP stay in any exotic place of my choice.  But I made a choice anyway. I opted for the countryside – to spend the leave holiday with my parents who relocated there at their retirement from the public service. It has been a while and I really missed them – Dad’s wit and Mum’s scrumptious local delicacies, the thought of which made me nostalgic.

       Prior to my departure to the countryside, I visited Aunty Josso – mum’s cousin and the only blood relative I have in the city. But we seldom see one another. Her efforts to reach out to me were frustrated by my constant absence and complaint of tight schedule. I made no attempt to revert this. She was a little pained and also made no further effort to look for me.

My intermittent calls didn’t change her mind. I felt I was callous and needed to make amends. My visit paved way for face mending with her because I couldn’t wish away our relationship. City life is too hectic to take on a lone range as a spinster. Sometimes one needs matured minds like Aunty Josso to lean on.

She was bemused that I could spend a night with her.

“God may this new era with my daughter be sustained” she said.

 “A. m. e .n” I echoed.

I also had a time out with Peterson, a former senior colleague who pestered me with dinner request. I snapped at him severally in a bid to dissuade him but he didn’t bulge.

 “I know you don’t like me but simple dinner with an enemy will do you no harm”, he would always tease. This time I called him to oblige his request. He was so excited and quickly fixed a venue. We had dinner twice, but I made sure it remained a harmless dinner date with no frivolous digression because with guys like him, a handshake could metamorphose to a surprise embrace. He is a dashing young man with “looks and means”. He’s got a solid family background and also doing well in his private medical practice. His calm disposition and polished accent makes for an almost irresistible attraction at first sight; but that’s certainly for the gullible who dare a heart break.

        Few days into my leave holiday I made good to adjust to certain realities at the countryside, especially the harsh ‘harmattan’ weather and dusty environment. I settled in quite well but not without some initial struggles, unlike the locals who seamlessly go about their activities. I had this mixture of pity and admiration for them, for what I observed as their exceptional doggedness. It was real doddle for them going about their activities early in the morning at the peak of the ‘harmattan wind’. Some even defied the cold for early morning palm wine in small clusters at thatched roadside local palm wine bars, amidst flying dust.

They seemed to have developed ‘a thick skin’ for the avalanche of inconveniences around them. My parents were not an exception. I used to fret about their ability to cope in the countryside after a long sojourn in the city, not knowing that they have blended fast with the life and system in place. Dad has already become a “NOBLE” - a traditional tittle for notable sons and heads of kindred. Holders are kingmakers and potential kings because from among them a king is made or selected according to family lineage.

“That’s why the NOBLE tittle is not an all comers affair” Dad said to me. “It is highly revered and conferred on individuals after rigorous vetting by an incumbent King and traditional council of elders”.

Mum was not on the idle seat either. Our country home was more like a convergence point for women of different bracket who thronged in to confer with her on diverse issues. She may not be a slouch in coordinating activities for women but that’s a complete deviation from her usual taciturnity.

She didn’t spare me assorted local delicacies which I relished. Sometimes my favourites – roasted bush meat, vegetables and maize meal were served to me in quick succession of lunch and dinner as if I was taking a routine tablet.