This is the season when one hears ‘I hate new yam’ with such disdain…and I smile.
There is no old yam without new yam.
One must thank not only the divine provider(s) of the yam, one must give ultimate thanks to those who get it out of the ground and to our plates – the farmers, harvesters, transporters, sellers. More than anything else, they should be adored and praised and thanked.
Because have you ever tried to harvest a single tuber of yam? Well I have and it is up there next to having babies by normal, V delivery – damn hard and sweat-inducing.
I see why the end of rainy season is perfect for this harvest – when the ground is soft and the soil moist, when the task and torture of digging one, two, three feet to harvest a single tuber is bearable, compared with during the dry, dusty months of December when Harmattan has ravaged the earth, the Nigerian, sub-saharan earth and turned its grounds to hard cake. What wonders there are in nature – the perfection of seed time and harvest time.