THE RIVER THAT RAN DRY

 

A village in Abia State

Agam was a river.

It was named by my ancestors. Ancestors who are now long gone. But they lived in that corner of the earth. On lands they found and claimed as their own. That piece of real estate, the new settlers  called Umuokehi Obiohuru. For they were the children of the Great Cow (Okehi).

Folklore has it, that their homeland became too small for the sons of Okehi. So, the youngest son,  gathered his family and went in search of new lands, until he reached my ancestral village. He discovered Agam the river, so he pitched tent and settled with his family.

Agam was their source of water and lifeline. They lived close to the river and gradually expanded out to claim more land as the families grew.

In the mid 1970s and 1980s when we would take trips during summer holidays and Christmas breaks to my village. I remember going to the river a couple of times with relatives. There was even a footpath, to walk all the way to my mother's village on the other side of the river. An aunty took us on that trip once.

The river was the source of many good things for the village and community. Residents of the village would take sacks of cassava to the river for the fermentation process. During the first stages to produce Garri, or farina as it's called in Brazil. Where Cassava/yuca or Mandioca originated in the Amazon.

But, I digress, Agam has run dry. Dried up from inflation in the land. Surely, that's not the reason, climate change contributed to its demise. Agam ran dry, because it ceased to be the lifeline of the village. Development happened and water started to flow through steel pipes in homes.

These days, many don't even remember Agam, the lifeline that birthed a village and community with sons and daughters around the world.

Agam, this is to honor you. And pay homage to the lives you created and saved.