I was six. The celebration in the village had the vibrancy and flamboyance of a carnival, because a new unisex social club was getting launched.
In the midst of that kaleidoscopic village moment, he kept his old Yashica and decided to launch never-before-seen new Polaroid camera from America. Up until then no one had witness a “wait-and-take” camera in action in Uwessanv. Local photographers would take your picture and make you wait about 7 to 14 days before the prints would arrive in envelopes stacked in empty Agfa or Kodak 4x6 empty packs.
Well on that day, in the eyes of elders, women, girls, boys, children and my playmates from far and near, magic unfolded from our household. Eni Ehikhamenor would point the camera at you, click, and pull out a paper from the yansh of the camera and hand it to my elder brother (his magician assistant, a job my brother still holds till today), who would then shake the whitish paper until villagers with toothy cauliflower laughters start appearing on the paper. The look on people’s faces at this new image making, though pleasant, had the semblance of a succubus encounter.
I walked on air behind him and my brother, all superstars in the eyes of those that beheld Eni’s latest magic. He had already had many magical moments before then, not counting the large Dodge American car he came to the village with one time, a vehicle my grandfather and his old friends said had harmattan inside of it.