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|[story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 11:03pm On Oct 01, 2019|
INSPIRED BY A TRUE LIFE STORY
Copyright(c) 2019 Inuwa Usman
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the writer. Short extracts may be used for review purposes, with permission.
The characters, names,places, and incidents in this story are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is written in Yoruba,British English and colloquial English spoken in my country.
Cover template by Canva
This piece of literary work is dedicated to my late father, Alhaji Abdullahi Inuwa and my late sister, Hajara Inuwa. May their gentle souls rest in peace (Ameen).
“No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
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|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 11:10pm On Oct 01, 2019|
“A person who rides a bicycle or horse does not know that the ground is hot.”
“Egbe iresi kana ooo” (boil the rice over a fire.) The loud voice of the groom’s mother got the attention of the women cooking.She was on a Buba dress chanting with the expression of joy. “Egbe apo elubo jade ooo (bring out the bag of yam flour.)”, “Haaa! Omi ti ooo( the water is boiled.)”,”jowo ban gbe apoti yen (please help me with that stool.)”,”isu iyan nko (where are the yams for pounding?)”, “haaa! Awon omoyi, won ti da ewedu nu ooo (This children have poured away the vegetable soup.)”, “jowo ba’nra akara wa (please help me buy beans cake.)” the groom’s mother proclaimed.
The shrilled voice of the women spread from one point to another. I laughed vehemently where I stood beside the gate watching a ‘Nollywood’ scene. That didn’t bother me, because all I wanted was to feed my hungry tummy which I eventually did.
March 31st, 1999 was a blissful day to Adams family, a day of love and happiness. Noble men and searching young men were present at the groom’s apartment all prepared for the five hours journey to lorelo town in kobiko state. Babajide, the groom to be was all smiles, lifting his agbada repeatedly.
“Oko iyawo, haba, this your agbada go tear ooo”, Umar, his best friend, an ophthalmologist uttered as we all busted to laughter. “Wetin, na my day be this, if the agbada tear I go wear another one”,Babajide responded amusingly.
Some of the invitees were set, while some were scared to travel to the violated town. A wailing sound of jubilation spread to the whole street, whistle and lovely sound of the singing birds chanted a love song that caresses the heart. My late father once said “courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than once fear.” Adams family is a noble household and I belonged there.
My name is Olawale Adams, a kid brother to the groom. My brother, Babajide was an epitome of integrity, a gentle man who I loved so much, just the way I cherished my mother. My mother runs her textile and shoe business from home, and because of her love for cooking, she also run a restaurant not far from the house.Our uncles refused to lead us to the traditional wedding ceremony, but the Almighty God in his infinite mercy gave us a gift of a humble, good heartened step-father who was an Engineer. My late father once said “A ripe fruit will not hang forever on a tree branch.” we all set to leave for Lorelo town in kobiko state at exactly 7:30am, we took positions and drove off.
To be continued..
Who is following?
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by Ann2012(f): 11:42pm On Oct 01, 2019|
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by millieademi: 9:38am On Oct 02, 2019|
Mad cover though. Come and teach me how to use Canva
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by millieademi: 9:43am On Oct 02, 2019|
Ok, I'm wondering what's next.
Sorry, I'd like to pinpoint a few things. Kindly permit me to.
1) I feel the appropriate translation for Gbe iresi kana should be Start cooking the rice.
2) It's Omi ti ho, not Omi ti o
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 10:18am On Oct 02, 2019|
Thanks, noted bro
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by millieademi: 11:23am On Oct 02, 2019|
*Exasperated sigh* I'm a sis
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 5:24pm On Oct 02, 2019|
Updates loading, dropping this night
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by millieademi: 5:24pm On Oct 02, 2019|
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by lonesome501(m): 5:53pm On Oct 02, 2019|
Hmmm!! *Aginju iberu* in the making.
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 7:12pm On Oct 02, 2019|
Our legs felt like a fried plantain after some hours of journey, it was a roller-coaster drive but we pulled ourselves. We headed to Tamara town, a place surrounded with high mountains. We were aware of every movement because our thighs felt tendered with a sensation of pain. We pushed on towards the final lane of Goza; in front of us was a monster mountain. Our eyes grew wide as we took a deep breath, not knowing there was a deadly hole right so close.
“Ye mogbe, na wetin be that?” I clamoured. Our jeep was too fast and lost control; it slipped into the hole and made us helpless.
“This driver sef, you no see the hole?” Shola, my elder cousin, a young politician vying for a chairmanship seat in our local government quarried the driver. The driver was speechless, and amazed at the giant mountain, just like we were.
“Babajide bo agbada re kati motoyi jade (Babajide remove your agbada, lets pull out the jeep.)”, Shola uttered.
We used all the strength we had to pull out the jeep. Unfortunately, we all ended up exhausted. Shola called the driver all sort of names and threatened to fight him if he uttered any word. The scene expanded, and as we were trying to separate Shola and the driver, we saw a silver pilot jeep approaching us.
“Is that not your step-father?” Umar asked my brother.
“We are running out of time, you all know that we have to be there by 12 noon”, my step-father said when he got down from the car.
He assisted us in pulling out the jeep with his friend which at the end we succeeded. “Is it that they are much stronger than us?” I solely asked myself. We looked at each other and after rounds of argument, we proceeded with the journey.
“Time!It slips away as easily as grains of sand on a wind- swept beach but those grains only trade places.” With the jeep, we changed the same way-new location in the passage of time. The steering was incidental like breathing, the mountains came and went, our legs felt so feeble and begged for freedom, with the wind blowing determination to our hearts. Yes! There was a transformation in a state of bliss, a place of my dream. As we kept on progressing and moving to our destination, we heard a loud sound as our jeep struggled to steady itself. We looked around trying to locate where we could fix our back tyres, but we found no help as we put heads together to fix the tyres on our own. 11:15am, and the distance between where we were and Lorelo town was something to reckon with. The groom grumbled time after time and was eager to set his eyes on his woman. It disturbed me too because I was also eager to have her in our midst. She was a typical example of an African queen.
“The purpose of life is to live it, to task it, to experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”It was a free-flow,hectic, and sophisticated journey, as we chatted and sang to the song we were playing. Sighting places at different location was totally fun. I couldn’t control my happiness because I enjoyed every bit of what I saw. As a photo journalist, taking pictures of nature and incidents was something I loved doing unlike my brother, a medical doctor who often spent his time with his patients in the hospital. As we were approaching the route to Mandala town, we saw some armed men not far from us, standing on the road, pointing their guns at us.
“Everybody come down!” the armed men clamoured. We were scared as we struggled to get our balance. The armed men pulled us out and ordered us to lie down. I was so scared because I knew we were in trouble. I had experienced an armed robbery attack before while I was on an assignment with my crew at Jagala state. We were attacked and beaten thoroughly, and they even took all we had and left us with nothing. My brother was uncomfortable. He did all he could to settle the armed men but all they requested for was our car and everything we had with us. We pleaded with them over and over again and at the end we managed to leave with our car. My step-father had already gone far before we were attacked, so he didn’t know anything. We proceeded with the journey after the horrible incident, different strokes in different location in a passage of time. We sped up to beat the time, as we maintained absolute silence till we reached our destination.
TO BE CONTINUED.
EPISODE 3 ALREADY AVAILABLE ON
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by millieademi: 8:33pm On Oct 02, 2019|
Hey! Yes, I've come again. I love your description.
I only have one thing to correct.
In colloquial Yoruba, it will be more appropriate to say, "Babajide, bo agbada e" not "re"
"Re" creates the impression of his rather than your.
|Re: [story] Lost In The Wind – A Novella by onosbaba3310: 10:41pm On Oct 02, 2019|
Lolz, thanks ma ��
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