"But don't you think you are getting engulfed in this ocean of debt? Your paltry pension with the missionary in 5 years can't even discharge the ones you have pending. Baba, say something."

The Clerk asked with his eyes fixated on the letter delivered to him by the frail looking old man before him. The old man kept staring at the floor like the answer to the Clerk's question would erupt. The Clerk continued: "Baba, I mean, how do you intend to pay the debt you owe the missionary?"

This time the old man managed to raise his head. Beyond his appearance was a frail man - his yellow eyeballs were revelation of years of awaited comfort that was destined not to come. His shaky hands and legs were evidences of his battle with something beyond the stress of old age. His feeble semi-skeletal structure was concealed in a faded blue garment which years of usage had endorsed with tears and patches. His cheeks twitched momentarily to the unheard beats of disappointment, as he struggled unsuccessfully to hold his tears back.

For almost 40 years, Baba, as he was popularly called in the village had been the guard at the only missionary school in the village. He was the father of Ibe, the boy drowned in the only village river by the fury of the village god. After Ibe, Baba's only hope remained Ini. Though she was not his biological daughter, Baba sure deserved all the dividends of parenting Ini. Ini's story was a sad tale in itself, yet it couldn’t rival Baba's yearly ‘waiting on the Lord’ every Sunday at the village church. What did Baba not do? Weeks of fasting induced by lack of resources, and the humiliating dance among agile men with the hope that the Lord of the dance would perform wonders.

Baba supported the church with his presence in every programme, but his name never appeared on the donor's register. Moments of fetching fire woods and clearing bushes for money are not left out. He was relieved of his duty as a guard when robbers attacked, tied baba up and bolted with properties.

"Baba!", the Clerk shouted. Baba jolted back from his prolonged introspection-one which did not change his sorry tales in 76 years. With a voice, baba replied with the last ripple of hope in his dying voice: "Please, consider my status for the sake of Ini, my little girl. I am ailing and my kidneys are failing. The white man at the Clinic asked me to pay a few pounds, I need your help. I know I am indebted, even Ini would inherit the estate of debt. See that letter in your hand, she wrote, and my neighbour said she is brilliant. Please, let me push her up so that she can clear my debts. If I'm able to support her, she can become a sanitary inspector and wear those uniforms like the white people. Let the disappointment of dying unfulfilled end by my demise. Don't let it roll over to my little girl. With an act of kindness, let me live to break this ancestral curse."Caught again by Baba's helpless narrative, the Clerk responded: "All right, I will look into your matter and check at your place to give you a feedback." After minutes of thanking the Clerk, Baba made to leave, but as he rose from the wooden chair, his gown felt like a fabric of iron, he struggled with a step, but his weak knees betrayed him. It was the sound of him falling that invited the Clerk's attention.

Opening his eyes at the village clinic, he saw little Ini looking lost in the world she found herself. She had braved the cold night and the insect bites to watch over Baba on what could be his death bed. A lady entered and faced Ini, "baba is dying, we need move him to the city. Who can help you with some pounds?"
The apparently lost Ini could only grab the words but not the message. However, Baba taught her that all solutions lies with God, and that one day, God would pay their heavy debt and bring them loads of comfort. Ini responded: "Baba said God would pay. I still talked to God in Church this morning. He was on the cross, though he said nothing, but he was staring at me. I don't know why he is not here yet." Sensing Ini's seeming lack of appreciation of the issue at hand, the lady dashed out. Then with his hand, Baba beckoned on Ini to move closer to him. He whispered something which obviously only Ini was destined to hear. The little girl ran out of the Clinic, through the bushy path, she made for the missionary school where Baba worked for 40 years.

She got there and went straight to the Clerk's office. "Good morning sir, Baba asked me to come back with the little you can help us with."
The Clerk peeped through his desk to behold the little girl standing before his desk. The missionary had told him there was no loan option for Baba, and he had acted in consonance. "When baba slumped here, I slipped it into his pocket. Go back and check." The poor girl rushed out of the Clinic.

On her way, she stopped at the church to remind the God on the cross of her earlier request, but the entrance door to the church was shut. So, she couldn't get a feedback from God. Ini got back to the clinic and related the outcome to Baba. At that point, he could neither move his hands nor legs, and life was ebbing out of him in instalments. He managed a whisper and Ini picked up his gown from the wooden chair. After some minutes of struggling with it, she finally located the pocket. She stood still staring at its content like the audience at a magic show.

"What is that?’ Baba struggled to ask. "The thing in your pocket", said Ini who burst into tears as she ran towards Baba on his death bed. Baba managed to look up. In Ini's little hand was a letter written in the grammar of a 5 year old-it was the letter of assistance baba took to the Clerk yesterday.

Sorry please, i don't quite understand the story? what i grabbed was that the letter is in pocket was the application for loan from baba to the bank, so finding it in his pocket means that they refused to offer assistance right
Really nice piece but i didn't get the ending.

Bonethugss:
Sorry please, i don't quite understand the story? what i grabbed was that the letter is in pocket was the application for loan from baba to the bank, so finding it in his pocket means that they refused to offer assistance right
Really nice piece but i didn't get the ending.

You got it sir. It is only a play on the humane part of you through psychology. You did not believe that such could happen because the humane part of you did not allow you get in term with the ending- it is tragic. He was not granted the financial aid. The little girl saw the letter instead of the money they expected was slipped in. She burst out crying because she knew that at that moment, what they needed was not an ordinary paper but money. You are not alone in that feeling, virtually all readers reacted the same way so far. Thanks for reading.

Hidenty,you style of writing is epic.....you are one person I admire on nairaland.Thumbs up and weldone

kayceerilyn:
Hidenty,you style of writing is epic.....you are one person I admire on nairaland.Thumbs up and weldone

I am humbled by your submission friend. No good drama can exist without people watching it. Thanks a lot, I appreciate you.

God gives wisdom, Hidentity proves it. I pray that this product will fulfil its purpose in the intestine of its consumers.