“Good morning, Uyo!” said Otuam as Uyo closed the door and stepped fully outside. “Are you ready to get to work?”
Uyo shrugged and crossed over to stand next to Otuam who was trimming dried reeds and rushes with her long-bladed knife.
Otuam glanced at Uyo. “Ah, the sedra is it? Well, this will be just what you need. Hard work will drive the sedra away. Stack this one against the house and bring me another bundle from that pile.”
Uyo did as directed and placed the fresh bundle on the split log in front of Otuam, careful to align the flush end with the mark she had made to specify the needed length. With practiced ease, Otuam brought the knife down to trim the ragged end. With a nod from Otuam, Uyo carried the bundle over to the house and returned with a fresh one from the pile. They soon fell into a rhythm — carry, place, cut, carry. Carry, place, cut, carry.
When the thatching was cut, Otuam climbed the ladder to the roof with her mallet and a bundle of spars for affixing the sheaths. “Ok, start bringing them up,” she said to Uyo, and a new rhythm began. Haul up, place, swing, climb down. By the third bundle, Uyo’s mind, rather than wandering, was recruited to maintain the rhythm of the work. Haul up, place, swing, climb down. Haul up, place, swing, climb down. The sun climbed and Uyo climbed.
Otuam called a break as the sun hit its zenith. Together they shared a small meal of bread, dried meat, hard cheese, and an apple that Otuam split precisely down the center with a single swing of her long-bladed knife. “No other work is necessary today, Uyo. Once we finish, we can relax and enjoy what’s left.” With that pronouncement, she stood and said, “Shall we?” inclining her head towards the ladder. Before Uyo could muster a response, she turned and started walking towards the ladder. Uyo trudged after her.
Haul up, place, swing, climb down. A seemingly endless loop. And yet, the sun was still well above the horizon when Otuam made a final swing and declared the ridge complete.
“Good work today, Uyo,” Otuam said as she descended. “It’s taken weeks, but we’ve made it.”
Climbing down a final time, Uyo seemed to melt into a puddle at the foot of the ladder.
“Good to see we took care of the sedra, too,” Otuam said without looking back as she gathered her tools. “I’ll see you overmorrow!” she called over her shoulder, leaving Uyo to take care of the ladder.
Otuam didn’t notice, but Uyo did, as they used the ladder to pull themself to standing — that the sedra hadn’t left. The buzz of activity had obscured it, but now, in a moment of stillness, Uyo felt the weight of it in full.
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