THE LAST NIGHT OF JUNE

  1.          The Last Night OF June

After winter comes the spring, nevertheless nature never neglects summer. It was a warm afternoon and the curtain of summer festivals was open for fun. As a Nigeria born adventurous writer, I had been invited to come and witness the club 402 summer festival which was attended by lots of immigrants. The summer festival was organized by AWO as a cordial means of saying no to the brutality of boredom on many immigrants in some parts of Germany. Believably, AWO has been rendering wonderful assistance to immigrants across Germany.

 

As I watched immigrants making protagonist   proclamation with astounding dancing steps, I tried to mingle reasoning with the ink of my poetic pen. First what is the cause of massive migration. In most cases,, it is man’s inhumanity to man and his nation probably, as the great philosopher Thomas Hobbes in his book “Leviathan” a state of nature where life was short nasty and brutish, where the rich are using the poor to get richer and the stronger suppressing the weak to become stronger. The definition of the phrase “literacy´“;; is not just jumping over the huddle of  schooling and studying but admitting  the reality of mortality and immortality.

 

There were summer outfits and banners everywhere. celebrants some of whose appearance made clear their ideology of life where arriving one after another. As at 4.30pm, Sun bowl Orchestra, an eight members band group were hitting their sticks on their drums  in such a professional manner that reminded me of the late Nigerian Afro-music  legend named Fela Kuti .As the jingle of the music was rising, a Ghanaian princess named Gloria was grilling   just by the Conner of the woodland of Fischbach very close to the over one thousand years old Bavarian mega city named Nuremberg.

Soon after, a delegation of four rabbits from the countryside of Altendorf were dancing amid in the shrubs as they witnessed the festival  joyfully. The band group increased the vocal of their trumpets just as the circle of celebrants increased. A German university student named Larissa painted the faces of children with rosy colors and youngsters danced with hop rings.

 

Suddenly, there was a screech on the major road.  The driver in the bus number 44 stopped promptly and people turned to see what was happening. And it was a funny rapper named Doggy. He was rushing thoughtlessly across the road with his bosom friend of him named Time will tell. They were both rapping as they were crossing the major road.

Snoop Doggy!

Doggy Dog!!

Snoop Doggy!

Doggy Dog!!

Doggy had barely arrived the scene when he turned to Time will tell and said, Didn’t I Tell you. In the gallery of the 21st century western life style, its almost unimaginable to sail across the sea of summer festivals without propelling the paddles of barbecue and ice cream. Doggy and Time Will Tell weren’t just chubby and comical but also funny and famous. In rabbit republic, Doggy is an esteemed play-maker both in words and action. However, when the stage was jam-packed by people as if it was the shore of Miami beach, a young man known as Cheikh M boup came on stage with African drum. The voice of culture echoed from the drum as he was drumbeating his fingers rhythmically. He had on his right fingers, two rings which were glittering like the early morning sun of a spring season. I was busy reflecting on the cord that connect cultures and its natural discrepancy. In Africa, we roast plantain with yam and fish, otherwise known as Bolea. while in Europe, many people get busy during summer festivals making barbecue with pork meat or hamburger and a small rounded hard bread that reminds me of the well known African  Agege bread.. What a world, so even westerners eat Agege bread.

 

Two hours later,  the burning coals were turning to ashes but snacks and drinks were still remaining. It seemed no one was willing to go home. Sincerely, many immigrants acknowledged that on that day boredom was conquered by celebration. Long live AWO and its staff!! A four years old boy named Hassan was playing football happily at the corner of the compound I tried to compare childhood and adolescence. Oh! mostly, childhood is like a royal experience that adults hardly forget. The music was allowed to fade for awhile so that the song of birds governed the residence for about ten minutes. The voice of nature is like all waterfall of peace and love.

 

Nature seems to have designed life in such a mysterious manner that certain days are destined to wear the royal ornament of sweet sensation and memories. Once again , SUN-bowl  Orchestra mounted on stage with a greater musical spectacle. It was 21.pm, the moon was sitting comfortably on the bed of the sky. The clouds were far from sight and darkness approached sluggishly.

 

Suddenly, a fireworks started. Most people sat on the ground and watched. Some of them were barefooted and wore very short shirts. They observed with a kind of passion that would without doubt remind a poet of the historical moonlight games of the ancient era.

 

The fireworks was still going on when the D.J of the Sun- Bowl Orchestra started cat-crying as he held his microphone high in the air.

Put your hands up!

Put your hands up!!

Put your hands up!!!

To the left – To the right

Put your hands up!

The participants crowded the D.J and swung their hands to the left, again to the right. Slowly to the Left and then to the right. The fact was funny. As this was going on, another black and white rabbit named Common Sense sprang out from the shrubs and ran around with a banner on which it was written-

Thanks to the organizers!

Thanks to the sponsors!

Thank you all !

Common Sense was swinging her tail in accord to the Shakira style and effect. Memorably, it was the last night in June and the twelfth summer in this millennium. The festival was the first of its kind, many agreed that Summer season is sensational indeed.

 

Chiemezie Joseph Ndupu

( Great Joe )

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