THROWBACK THURSDAY: WHEN RAINY SEASON WAS PURE MAGIC — AND NOT JUST FLOOD ALERTS

There was a time when the rainy season wasn’t just about flood warnings, power outages, and traffic standstills. It was a season of togetherness, nostalgia, and the kind of joy that didn’t need fancy gadgets or expensive plans. It meant raw, authentic, unfiltered vibes.

For the now middle-aged adults, the rainy season brought memories of childhood hustle, lining your school shoes with black nylon to protect them from muddy puddles, or tucking your socks into your sandals before that soggy walk home. You remember clutching your slate and chalk tightly under your armpit as you dashed through the rain, school uniform soaked, feet caked in red mud, one sandal in hand while the other threatened to float away with the current.

For the younger folks, it was (and still is) the thrill of walking home from summer lessons under a drizzle, already drained but somehow fulfilled. The excitement of dancing in the rain, uniforms sticking to your skin, a bag of puff-puff in hand, and the feeling that the world, for those few moments, was yours.

If the rain caught you indoors, there was the quiet ritual of peeping through the window to watch the drops turn red soil into chocolate-colored rivers. You’d trace the path of floating leaves and silently worry about how your beloved slippers got swept away by rushing water. Then came the soundtrack of the season, someone, usually a sibling or neighbour, would start mumbling:

“Ojo n ro, sere ninu ile… ma wọnu ojo…”
(Rain is falling, play indoors… don’t go into the rain)

And before you knew it, the whole house would join in, humming or clapping along.

At night, the family would gather in the living room, wrapped in warm wrappers and old Ankara, listening to folktales from mum, dad, or that one animated aunt or uncle. The ones with dramatic call-and-response, stories that were never really true but meant to caution you against doing something mischievous you secretly loved.

Then came tales of Ijàpá, the clever tortoise and the Feast in the Sky and of course, there was always a song woven into the story:
“Ijàpá ò l’ẹyẹ, o fẹ̀ lọ s’ọrun”
Tortoise has no wings, yet he wants to fly to the sky
Ijàpá ò l’ẹyẹ, o fẹ̀ lọ s’ọrun
Ijàpá ò l’ẹyẹ, o fẹ̀ lọ s’ọrun
Kí ni yó ṣẹlẹ̀? A má rí i lórí igi!
What will happen? We’ll see him stuck on a tree!

Both generations, old and young, can agree on one thing: rainy days are a whole mood. Whether you were hiding under the dining table pretending to do homework or now logging into Zoom meetings while silently praying NEPA doesn’t take light, the rhythm of rain tapping on a zinc roof has always meant something more. It’s a moment to pause. To reconnect. To breathe.

So this Thursday, let’s throw it all the way back to the joy of rainy days that needed no power, no money, and no internet. Just hot boiled corn, a bowl of eko with moin-moin, laughter shared under one roof, and the kind of memories only the rainy season could give.

Let the puddles remind you of home. Let the thunder remind you of stories.

Happy Throwback Thursday!