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Planting in season, by Muyiwa Adetiba

Planting in season, by Muyiwa Adetiba

Muyiwa Adetiba

I attended the wedding of a late friend’s daughter a couple of weeks ago. As she walked the aisle to solemn, spiritual music, my mind wandered, for some strange, inexplicable reasons, to her birth – it was not the first time I was attending the wedding of someone I had carried in my arms as a child and this memory had hardly been triggered before. At least, not to this extent. I found myself remembering the tiny tot I went to visit at the hospital.

I remembered the naming ceremony and how she clung fiercely to her mother, refusing to be carried by anybody, even for the brief, naming rite – those strident, demanding cries echoed in my ears as if it happened yesterday. I remember her tiny hand in her late father’s palm and her inquisitive, questioning eyes as she followed him to places. I remember his pride when she decided to follow his footsteps in studying medicine. Now, at about thirty, she is an accomplished Medical Doctor going through the rites of being wedded to the love of her life – that her father was not there to witness the joyful occasion probably indulged my trip down memory lane. What memories, what emotions would have been going through his mind at this point?

Together, this new couple would start their own family. Together, they would experience the thrills and frustrations of building a home and raising their kids. This would include the anxiety of pregnancy, the thrill of childbirth, the strain of juggling jobs to raise children, the enormous cost financially and emotionally of training a child, the joy of small triumphs and despair of setbacks along the journey, the fear of losing their children physically and emotionally as they grow away into adulthood, the fulfillment and sometimes disillusionment at seeing how they have evolved, and finally, the bitter/sweet joy of giving them away in matrimony and thus setting them free to sow their own seed in the garden of life. And so, the cycle of life continues. You sow, you nurture, you reap and you move on. How much of what we sow, our investments, do we really reap for ourselves? The best of investments outlive us because the best of investments are not really about us except perhaps tangentially.

As I watched the signing of the contractual wedding documents and listened to the melodious music that filled the air, my mind drifted to the journey of life and the lessons it teaches along the way through nature and the common things around us. If this bride, whose joyful day we were witnessing, had been born in under six months of pregnancy, the parents would have panicked. Especially her dad who was a Medical Doctor because he would know the inherent risks in a seriously premature baby.

If she had started talking or walking at birth, the whole community would have been thrown into confusion. Conversely, if she had not talked in a year or walked in two years, the parents’ brows would be furrowed in worry. Why then do we hurry processes in life when we know that things are only made perfect in their due time? Can anybody hurry the sunrise just because he is going to have a busy day? Can anybody delay sunset just because he is yet to reach his destination? Life becomes chaotic and complex when we attempt to cut corners and jump start processes.

 There is so much about nature that we can learn from if only we paid attention. Nature teaches about seasons for example. And that every season has its uses. Some crops do well in the rainy season, some do not. Or that there is a season to plant and another season to harvest. It teaches about preparations. The bush needing to be cleared, the soil cultivated and the seeds prepared for planting. It teaches faith. The fact that what is planted is not seen to be growing does not necessarily mean that there is no growth. 

It teaches hope that what is planted would overcome harsh elements, animals and other unfriendly trespassers on its journey to maturity. It teaches patience. There would be times when the rains would not come and times when the heavens would open up in torrents. There would be times when the growth appears stunted and the leaves appear yellow such that the need for extra care becomes apparent. Patience also teaches us that no matter how hungry or impatient we become, each crop has its period of gestation before fruiting.

It teaches nurture. What is planted must be watered and tended to maturity. In other words, it must be cared for. It teaches cooperation and relationships. Life is about value chains; so is farming. Nobody cultivates, plants, waters, harvests and markets the produce on their farm alone. Certainly nobody eats all the produce in their farm alone. It teaches due process. From planting to harvesting, the laws of nature – their system, their sequence – must be understood and obeyed as the consequences of disobedience can be tragic. There is no putting the cart before the horse here. 

‘As the way of nature, so the way of life’ is a saying I learnt as a youth which has stayed with me all these years guiding or admonishing as the need arose. It is a saying we should pay heed to. Do we plant in season? Do we make adequate preparations and consultations before planting whether it is as a reform or an investment? Do we nurture what we have? Do we have faith and hope in this country and its produce? Are we patient to see things mature before we disparage and change course?

Do we respect relationships and the value chain knowing that no man is an island and that things work better when there is synergy? Do we follow due processes or prefer to cut corners believing somehow that a baby born at five months would be as healthy as a baby of nine months or that yam can be harvested at just two months? Do we believe there can be growth even when it is not easily discernible to the eyes?

It is necessary to ask ourselves these questions as individuals and as a collective because if we obeyed the laws of nature especially as it pertains to planting, we would not be in the situation we now find ourselves today in the country. We would not be materially and emotionally hungry, thirsty and deprived. The fruit of the land can be bountiful because nature has given us a fertile soil but we would need to learn and imbibe the laws that guide a bountiful harvest.

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