“How do you know to do that?”  I poked at her leaves

Silence.

“I mean, how and when to fold your leaves like that” I gingerly jabbed at the leaves again

Who talks to a plant, right?

Although walking this treacherous road has almost had me questioning my sanity, especially at those earlier stages, I still know I am not crazy.

Moreso, I have been a soliloquist for as far back as I could recall therefore sitting on my yoga mat and talking to this Maranta plant was not a big deal in my books.

I had finally roused myself from a 12-hour sleep spent on the blanketed floor.  Another one of those deep knock-out type of sleep which I was constantly being  pulled into recently.

Still groggy,  I tried to push myself into a Yoga exercise to wake me up.  My body outrightly refused.  I simply sat on the mat to gather my bearings as my eyes wandered around the Lounge.  Then settled on the plant beside my chair.

My champ had pointed out a fact the previous night.  One which I had noticed but chalked up to my head playing games;

He was negotiating bedtime again.  Insisting on staying with me to look after me

“You cannot send me to sleep by now when I am not auntie” he pointed at the Maranta whom we had christened ‘auntie the drama queen’



“Why does she even fold her hands like she is praying?” He had quizzed me earlier when she began blossoming


“Does she?”.  I posed back at him.  That meant my head was still intact


“Of course.  You have not noticed that auntie sleeps early and she will still be asleep when I leave for school”


“I have noticed it but assumed it was my head playing games”

“No, it is her drama.  Once she begins folding her arms to pray that means she is going to bed”

There I sat this morning, still feeling dopey after a half day’s slumber contemplating if I should simply yield to my body or fight the tide

Meanwhile, as I sat intrigued watching auntie slowly unfurl, I kept interrogating her

“How do you do that?”. she haughtily turned a blind eye to me


“Because it is in its DNA” I heard


“DNA?”


“Yes, I made it so.  To self-preserve.


“Excusez moi”  my head whirled


“When it curls up and goes to sleep, it is conserving energy.  If not, it dies ahead of its time”

My head was now spinning.  This was all too technical for me and confusing

“You mean that is why my body has been shutting down and only sleeping”


“is it not logical enough?”  said wryly


“Why then had I not been sleeping back then?”


“Well, you are now.  Your body is in the workshop”


“Like a car?”  I twisted my face into a sardonic grin


“You recall when your car was at that Obalende workshop and you kept going in there?”


“Ouch!”  do you have to go there afresh?

Immediately, I was transported back to that horrific accident scene at CMS in Lagos Island years ago: I watched my car spun across the 4-way intersection while all my senses activated like an airbag. One sense restrained my foot from stepping on the pedals, another prayed God to take care of my little champ seated behind in his car seat, whilst yet another pleaded that there should be no oncoming traffic nor my car somersault.

All because some danfo [kombi bus] driver had decided in his all-knowingness to run a red light across from me. 

 

“yes, how you kept going in to the automobile workshop and yet could not take the car away until it was ready?”

“Sure, I recall everything” I mumbled.



“That, dear child of mine, is what this is about”.

“Again you have been spared an imminent death, unfortunately though for your body – it, like that car has taken the brunt and is now in disrepair” It is in the repairer’s shed and you must learn to stop hurrying it up if a thorough job must be done”.

Comprehension dawned slowly as I lay back on my mat and googled the plant named Maranta.