now, this little piece is dedicated to aminah gbadegesin oyinkanola...thanks for being there.

I'll urge the reader to please forgive my typographic errors. this is a non edited work and I'm just a begìnner. I just hope you enjoy it.





Oderinde's chair creaked a little and that was when he realised that he wasn't dozing, that he had actually slept for a period of time he could not say.

The cloud was soaked and ready to cry out the hunger that bled in the stomach of his children. He had been witnessing serious game drought over the past few weeks and now, he could not even boast of a grain in that house. Three days had passed and olufunke his younger daughter just kept calling on her mother in the midst of her cry. A mother that was not there, not because she doesn't want to be there- of course, what kind of a mother would leave her child crying out her name in the agony of hunger without a reply? The land where she has travelled to is that of no return.

His thoughts shifted to Akanke, his wife. She was his goodluck charm and since when she had died, this life has been a strange world to live in for him. He had refused to go out to the hunters'joint where they would gather and sing the ijala and drink fresh palmwine tapped that same day. He was facing drought, which was a bad thing to make a topic of discussion whenever he shows up at the gathering. Most of his friends would sympathize with him yes, but he could still figure out some who only mocked him with their long faces of giving condolences. Besides, there was no wife to look after his funny act whenever he got drunk and would just drawl home like a giant snail. Nothing of an outing interested him any longer.

He wa facing drought, and no matter how much you get tired of reading that, the simple truth is, he was facing drought and that was Oderinde's major concern at the moment. His wife's death must have caused him pains from then till now, but her livelihood wouldn't have put food on the table of this malfed, hunger-striken, starving children. But seriously, where is Ogun?, the god of iron. Has he forgotten him? The heads of his ancestors that placed his fingers on the trigger of the rifle, where are they? The last time, he blamed himself for washing his gun at the shrine with a whole bottle of seaman's schnapps he couldn't taste as much as he wanted. When the same was his case, he thought it was a complete waste of money and he wished he had bought some food in the house with that money, or drink the whole of the hot drink, maybe he would just gather enough courage to join his wife.

By the time he got back to his senses after so much thought, a little ant was making its way up his thigh. It had already made a destination to his sheen, but one who saw it would know it was a rough and wavy way, having to make way in the midst of the bushy hairs he had on his legs. This tickled Oderinde's sense and with a reflexive move, he struck the whole area with his thick palm, rubbing gently after the hit, in a way to relish on the sweet pleasure the ant had left with the tickle.

By this time, he heard nothing of Olufunke's cry. He arranged the situation of the chair, helping himself to a best comfortable position and landed into oblivion again.

* * *

It was dark enough and the best he could do was try. He stamped the the buttocks of his gun thrice as if some game was waiting to be killed that night, but as he stood up with confidence bulging in him, he quickly realised how many of that action movie he had acted, only to come back home with an empty sac, filled with hunger for him and his daughters. All he could do was try, at least, that was better than being haunted by the cries of Olufunke and the tired courageous silence of Adeola, the elder that consoled her sister. Even the forbidden forest won't stop him, so let's go hunt down some game!

He had searched all through the night, nothing but the sounds of crickets and the owls that greeted him weldone. He had used their company as they simultaenously made some regular form of rhythmic blend of percussion and woodwind music and then he would shake his head on his neck at the highlife sensation whenever he was lost in his thoughts. The more tired he got, the more hope he gave himself, till finally, fatigue caught up with him. He should rest before he would become a victim to the animal that comes now.

There, under the oak tree was very clean and clear of rotten leaves. It was as though someone swept there, awaiting his arrival. He granted the welcoming smile of the oak with a befitting seat, with his headlamp on and his gun and his sac, all which had just served as a mere load to his misery just beside him. The breeze that blew to him was so cool he almost forgot all worries that came along with living in this life.

He hadn't sat a minute when excitement came. Hormones of readiness pumped into his bloodstream as he heard the rumpling noise of the leaves terminating the concert of the 'crickets and owls show'. It came from the bush that lied just in front of him. The creature was moving fast towards him as if it was gunning for him also, but facing drought was even acceptable in this case, it could happen to anybody. What is it to say of an hunter of his pedigree to fall victim of an animal in the forest? People would mock at his corpse. He would be put to shame and that wasn't going to happen.

The creature kept moving as briskly and as carefully and as directly towards him, but if a fight was what this animal wants, Oderinde was ready to put up one with it. He climbed the oak tree, he needed to have a view of what was coming for him. The animal was slow now, walking very preciously and attentively to every movement Oderinde made.

On the tree, all oderinde could see was a thin log of would that made such a slow progressive movement that he was sure the animal used as camouflage. He helped himself to a funny laughter. Of course, creatures in the forests can be very funny and think they are wise. He wore back his frown of attention and spiced it with a sauce of readiness, setting his headlamp straight and in few seconds, boooom!!! The sound of his bajinatu rifle as it travels through the gates of the savannah to strike the window of the valley up north, accompanied with a thick smoke like that of a train travelling west, caught the air in the simile of a most thunderous tsunami. It caught the animal unawares and what was left of it was to let out a cry that followed the echoe of the rifle sound and slump right there at the spot, just after the camouflage wood went of its head. But the cry wasn't that of an animal, it was of human.

An old, frail, helpless woman.

* * *

"I could have killed you!" , Oderinde's voice was in a low but harsh tone as he picked the tiny old woman from the floor of where his blast had slumped her, but if you were actually there or have been following this story from the beginning, you would realise that his actions and words were more of frustration than sympathy for the old woman.

It was really a pick up because when he picked her up, there was nothing left of the woman's legs on the ground and then he came back to his sense of reality that it was not an animal, he dropped her down gently and immediately wore a mild face in a way to let the woman survive from the shock to death that had gripped her heart.

"I hope you're not hurt", he mumbled out softly.

"I-I...errm" , iya agba stuttered, before oderinde stopped the last breath from coming out of her mouth.

"It's okay", he said ,but we all know it wasn't okay. Not on his part, he had children crying at hime for food.

With a mix of anger that the woman could not turn animal and gratitude of not ending the long serving life of an old woman in the forest, oderinde followed iya agba through the paths that seemed to have been made for the woman alone. She was enjoying an obstacle-free ride, while he kept getting hanged and stinged by protruding leaves that peeped out from the sides.

The road was getting longer than expected , boring to hell, a log of wood added to the load of his worthless rifle and sac and a dawn that was fast falling, his frustration mounted up and he was about to just drop the log and search a little more for something worthwhile. He had left home to find a living for his miserable family and here he is , carrying a woman's log of wood. Funny how a little incident can change a whole story. He wondered how come she came out fetching woods by that time of the night, very unreasonable. Very unwise, but old people could be old people at times. They never rest their fragile limbs. If she wanted to die, why not bury her head in the pot of her home and die with pillows under it? She had come all this way only to witness a near miss of a shot that would just have ended her life.

In the end of an endless tunnel of journey, they finaly got to the light of a lonely house. One would have thought that the house was abandoned, if not for the deem light of a lamp that hung in at an angle of a room with open windows.
"Now you must be thirsty", said iya agba. She seemed to have regained her senses now because she sopke eloquently, almost as if nothing had happened. "Put down the wood and wait for me. You must get some water", she drawled inside the house , took the lamp with her.

The cock crowled, as the illumination of sunlight pierced through the sky. It was dawning and Oderinde, although clouded with bashfulness of going home empty, just wished he could leave, but wait, isn't that if only he knew his way back? Terror upon terror kept befalling him. Now he just wished he had not left home at all.

The woman came out of the hut through the back, but this time again, the story changed. Behold, Akanke in a fine silk blouse and wrapper beckoned with a mug of water. Oderinde almost slumped.

She was so beautiful and completely of this world. She still had the eyes. The eyes that brings twinkling drop of passion tear from his eyes. Her presence comforted him and lo, he forgot everything. The struggles, the hunger, the shame, the frustrations, then lastly forgot what had happened to Akanke.

"See, your children are fine", he said as he took another gulp of water that tasted like wine down his throat. The world had gotten cold enough and the best thing he could get was someone to relate all his miseries with. If that was the case, then Akanke came at the right time. He was his all time guest. "But they are hung...", he cut it " no, starving is the word", he finally found himself saying.

" not to worry Oderinde", she smiled and he almost filled the gap of her teeth with a tongue. She said she had some food in the house and they both agreed he'd take with him to feed the girls.

* * *

The cock crowled.

From his deep sleep, he could see the red vision of sun beating his face. It was lightly hot but it was bright. The morning is come, it was clear. He opened his eyes and then he couldn't believe it was a dream. He looked round and nothing of the previous incident showed up, not even the crickets and owls.

His chair creaked again, but this time , he fell into a complete crumble , to be received by a well packaged stuff of food which should last for some months.

Olufunke's cry began again but this time, oderinde just smiled still right on the floor from his fall and his thought held on to the memory of Akanke. His beautiful wife, a wonderful mother.

Just followed later run I will read word to word. I guess it gonna be a smooth ride on this story.

Following...

ur story is going smoothly,hope d best is on d way.

nicely written

pls explore www.mockingbird.com.ng

D end?huh??v

Following..... Cont'd abeg

the story don finish nah ...
I hooe you enjoyed it...lol

Iffa hear.it must b a joke sha