Hello community! Whenever I write in a new community I experience a mixture of positive expectations and a sense of challenge. This time is no exception.
I discovered Hive Naija on the blog of my friend @actioncats and I was curious to learn about the topics discussed here. So I discovered an initiative that invites us to talk about the neighborhood we live in.
Curiously, just yesterday a friend and I were talking about the characteristics of our neighborhoods, their histories and traditions. We made comparisons and even exchanged nice anecdotes that happened in them.
But... You may ask yourself, what makes my neighborhood (here we call the neighborhood) special? To understand, let's take a trip back to my childhood.
I grew up in a rural neighborhood, between tobacco fields, the river, and the baseball stadium. There I learned values and traditions that are still with me today and that I even miss when I spend time away from it.
It was always a humble neighborhood. Today we can find masonry houses but most of the houses 30 years ago were made of wood and wano roof (leaf of a palm tree called Palma Cana).
We were so humble that we used to lend each other clothes and shoes when someone had to do an important business in the city. Those were very difficult economic times.
However, despite the shortages, there was a solidarity that is difficult to find today. I remember that almost every family raised animals for sustenance. When they were slaughtered, a piece of meat was set aside for each house in the neighborhood.
We were usually sent on these errands as children and we might cross paths on the way to deliver "the little piece of meat" to each house.
Hey, where are you going? we would ask. To your house, to take this errand. I'm going to yours! Y... no way to come back with the errand undelivered! Nice, isn't it?
The kids used to have fun in the river under the watchful eye of an adult. And when we escaped alone and were caught, the adult who caught us would pull us out of the water and take us home to report to our parents.
We also used to go to the lagoons to fish for fighting fish. We used to prepare bicycle tires with pieces of maya, some plastic bottles and go fishing!
Like every neighborhood, it had its peculiar characters. One of them was Nilo. I remember him always hurrying every afternoon to go to the bakery to buy bread at the last minute before closing time.
I also remember Pepe "El Castellano". With his brooms on his shoulder and a proclamation that could be heard in other more distant neighborhoods.
I have a clear image of Yoel. He used to ride by on his bicycle imitating the candy sellers who came from the city along the only road in the neighborhood. It was like a dead end. Quite a long alley!
Other times I would ask: The crab neck hash! Or the cockscomb burger! Always some amused vecubo would fall into the trap and not infrequently a brawl ensued.
With nostalgia I remember that the dawns were announced by the fighting cocks of Papito "El gallero". He lived right next to my house and had a fence with more than 30 fighting cocks. Imagine what it was like to wake up in the middle of the morning concert that started at 5:00 a.m.!
These are some memories of the neighborhood where I grew up. It is still there and although the neighbors maintain good relations something has changed. It must be because of the fluctuation of the population over the years.
Still, every time I enter it I feel enormous pride.
Thankful for your company until the end, I leave you a friendly embrace.
Text translated into English by DeepLTranslste.
Image taken with my Xiomi Redmi phone.