chrisk.art.blog

It was in the afternoon in Gbengduo, and the sun came out its all; It cruelly was scorching. I went under the huge mango tree to rest after working tireless in the morning up till mid-day. It was the place where the folks in the village congregate after going through a hectic day. In somedays, it was more like a market than a place of rest. The boughs of the tree had stretched out, that provided enough shade for us in Gbengduo. Some money-minded women, taking advantage of the gathering of the villagers, would brew pito, and come there to sell. It was a booming venture. Later on, the dog-butcher came and mounted his table there, ready to serve the patrons with dog meat. It complemented the pito, and so it was not seldom to see some men hold the calabash of pito in their right hand, drinking whilst chewing the dog meat, a cherished delicacy, in the left hand.

Fatigue took hold of my body, and I rested under the mango, in the blinking of an eye, I was fast asleep. It was an open day that day as there were no butcher or pito seller. It was a dry season, getting close to the wet times of the year; every serious farmer was in the farm busily doing the clearing. I slept for few minutes but was awoken by the ringer birds that had come to perch and rest too. And instead of respecting my privacy, they woke me up with much noise, then, I decided to take a walk home.

As I was sluggishly making my way to the house, something sort of a spirit prompted me to look behind. For whatever reason, I did not resist such a divinely instruction. I turned my back to see what my intuition wanted to feed my eyes with. Behold, a fog of thick curly smoke smouldering its way up to the high heavens. Upon seeing this, in my mind, I was sure what that was: a house was on fire and needed quenching. Before I gave a yell, “fire, fire, fire”, I had entered the house, in a communal spirit and was now at the yard where their water was stored. It is only God who can tell what took me there. I was tempted to believe that which had just alerted me to look back spirited me so easily to the house with such speed. It could not be my legs that did the walking; it remains a mystery. I looked everywhere for a bucket to draw water from the big red earthenware pots but could not find anything. Whilst I was searching, I kept yelling for help but not even a hair showed up. Or the sound of my yells ended in the roof of my mouth? Fortunately, I saw one medium-sized rubber bowl. I scooped a chunk of water, and with all might poured exactly the spot where the smoke mostly came from and what I discovered jumped my hearted: a dark muscular man, strongly built, with a flashing goat-beard, having a long roll of weed, something like the length of an arm, in his mouth. It is a man smoking weed, I thought but was so taken aback to be able utter it with my lips. He rose up, then swatted the strings of water on his forehead. Before he could say a word, the looks in his eyes said I should take to my heels lest I be rewarded some handsome slaps on my face. With his stony palms? I ran out in the manner I rushed in when I first saw the smoke. And unforgiving, this man gave me a hot chase.

I was several steps ahead of him. I thought the gap I gave in this thankless cross-country race would demotivate him to stop. But no, he followed anywhere I thought was a place for me to hide. It occurred to me I was only being foolish, playing the victim when I could just explain to him why I did that. I did not see a man in him to see any reason I was about to give him that he would accept. Of course, so long as I had cut-shot his lunch, I was an enemy to be dealt with.

 I saw bushes of shrubs and hid there, and it was now filled darkness. He came and looked round it but did not see me. His face looked tired so like the one who would not pursue me anymore. He suspicion that I was inside the bush was alive, so he combed round it but did not enter.

“Ganja man never give up. Mi see u anada dei, di fight continues. U babilon wan take mi fi fuul”, he burst in his deep coarse voice and now I knew the thing that asked me to look back was the work of the devil.

Days went by but we never met. One afternoon, I went to rest under the mango tree again. I saw him in the midst of the crowd. I was afraid to go there, but mustered courage and went. This man upon seeing me gave a chase again… up till now we do not meet; I give him miles apart, just because I  quenched his burning mouth thinking it was a house on fire.