Why the man of the soil loves London?

Awarded the best short film IFFF 2011, Man of the soil, takes us to unusually small island on the Carribean in Dominica where the story of one, Jerry Maka West develops. The film depicts him as simple man of the soil who despite the ‘busyness’ of city life manages to work his garden by growing and preparing food Just as his grandparents once taught him. His ability to skip in and out of a complex modern world without being drawn to it is just admirable. Maka’s lifestyle is to be envied not only by his contemporaries but by us all.

Visits to London often remind me of Maka West ethos and philosophy.  With its alluring beauty of arts, architecture, technology, music and history just to mention a few London has the ability to hold and own your soul. However, the whole experience could be exhausting and energy taking. 

As a student whom am used to be branded a poor fellow it takes an extra cost to whip out a train card to secure a passage to a bit of country air. Though, not given a chance to cook as my grandparents taught me like Maka, the ticket secured me the bucolic beauty of Hertfordshire in one school of missions by the name AllNations. There, I got to hang out with my good friend who updated me all I needed to know-well of course over a meal in a Jolly Fisherman Pub though the I heard that the fisherman signalling nice weather went away to the shore to bring more fish for tomorrow and therefore failed to meet him.

On another front London offers a place where all cultures meet. Having not had anyone work on my hair for almost a year now I decided to walk into a barber shop where this helpful lady from Nigeria worked. I explained what I wanted my hair done but she suggested few other options which she thought would be trendier but I declined and stuck to the original plan.   

She finished and I paid her but I needed to get change. Immediately she received by money she went over to her desk to a phone and started to chat with another person on the other end of the line for a period that seemed to go to eternity. At the look of things I don’t think she was in anyway talking about me but the grin on her face made me think she was probably counting blessings for yet another customer. 

Getting agitated, I walked closer to her and using sign language-sort of- told her I needed my change. Hanging the phone she asked why I was so much in a hurry-I need to catch a bus Madame! Wonder what Jerry Maka West would have done? Would the man of the soil have bothered by time or the change?