There are two paths to the village stream. 

Our stream is the cleanest in all the neighboring villages and towns. It was gifted to us 2000 years ago. This gift was a response to all our prayers, an answer to prayers we were not wise enough to whisper. This stream was a gift we needed.

It was a pool of water in the early days, villages  would pay it no mind and laugh at  our ancestors as they drank from it, as they were replenished by this water.

The water of this stream is sweet, like honey, cool like the fresh morning dew and other times it burns like fire. 

This stream has attracted many strangers, settling in our little town. Mama has warned me to address them as siblings because we drink from the same stream. It is a bit ridiculous because we look nothing alike, they can’t even properly pronounce my name Onyeozi.

There are two paths to the village stream.

There is a large path, filled with mango tress, pawpaw trees, orange trees, udara, ube so many fruits! 

On this path, merchants sell different exotic goods for a fraction of the price, there are dancers, singers and even games. It is the most exciting part of the entire village bustling with activity from sun rise to sun set. The dancers never get fatigued, the drummers are always energetic. I wonder if they ever go back to their houses.

The snake charmers boast that it is the best path in the whole world, holding out snakes for passerbys to pet. 

how do you pet a wild animal?

Mama has warned me to never tow that path. I follow her every day with my water pot close to me as we journey through the narrow way. It’s a confusing path to describe. There are fewer people there,laughing, exchanging water in cups, shaking hands and singing songs that I have struggled to learn. 

On this path, the road is not smooth. Tiny stones dig into my feet and threatened to throw me on the ground like an angry wrestler. Sometimes it is very quiet, the only sound is the thumping of I and Mama’s feet. On those days, Mama sings and hums with excitement, she confuses me sometimes.

The further we go, the more understanding I gain, the more my hidden desire for the dancers and snake charmers crumble to dust. I start to feel the coolness of the dew especially on my scarred feet. The faint glow of the water is my favorite part of the stream. Somehow It illuminates the entire path. As you get closer, it gets brighter.

No one who goes through the wide path comes back with water. They return with mangoes, clothes and a complimentary snake but no water. It amuses me. Will you drink snake poison? No one comes back sated. No one comes back with a good clay pot.