Banjo cupped his hands as he hunkered down beside the stream. The water tranquility, it’s coldness was in contrast with rest of the forest and the rumbling in his stomach. He knew his bad luck will definitely get them killed. He had told his wife – Tina that he won’t apply for the annual competition of ADVENTURE IN DIFFERENT CONTINENT. Though Tina was happy that his African-lover allowed her to apply annually, and that radiated from her.
But right now, at this moment he blamed himself that he hadn’t. This year competition was stated for Africa and that has made Tina flew for joy.
‘Love, we will be going to Africa for this year competition.’
We?
Banjo could remember the exact words she had used. ‘You told me the continent isn’t really about animals and forest. We can explore the beauty together, right?’ she had asked him that day, but he was in tight spot. He never desired to say no, but what if his country will be among those listed for the adventure.
He had sworn not to return twenty-four years ago when he entered the plane leaving for London. His grandfather of blessed memory did say in his lifetime, ‘I want you gone.’ And that was intensified on Banjo’s tenth birthday which was the tenth year remembrance of his mum and grandmother. ‘The boy bloodstream is filled with bad luck,’ Grandpa had ended his statement with that that same day.
But his father defended him. ‘Bad occurrences do happen all the time, which is why coincidence appeared in the dictionary.’
Maybe his father was right. He has been in different planes with hundreds of people and none crashed. Staying in London was fun and his relationship with Tina had brought no sad story.
Now, Banjo washed his face, fetched some water in the containers in his hand as he walked back to their hut. It was late, but he wasn’t scared of death.
Why would an embodiment of bad luck be scared of death?
Death is just one of the pieces that filled up the sadness puzzle in which bad luck isn’t exempted.
Bad luck?
He wasn’t surprised he could call himself that. Ten individuals had flown to Togo for the competition. Each individual with a speedboat. The first phase was a simple task; trip on the Atlantic ocean to Benin Republic. That was fun, one Tina craved for. It was actually fun when they started. The touch of salt water on the skin and sight of the sun rising from the horizon.
‘You never lie, Sweetheart,’ Tina had whispered.
But that experience was short-lived when the current aroused and separated them. Africa wasn’t expecting him. That he couldn’t deny as his leg ruffled the dead leaves. Tina and other three had stayed in the hut since they overheard the discussion of some hunters during the day.
‘Nous avons besoin de cinq estrangers – des femmes.’ It was French but Tina French lesson paid off. She had it translated.
We need five strangers – females.
Banjo increased his pace on the lone pathway when he remembered how unsecured the ladies were. His breathing rate accelerated when the insects stopped chirping and red flames appeared in distance. He switched off the torch in his hand and drawn a strong rod from the forest.
He hid behind a tree for him to have a glimpse of them. Ten men in a single column; five were only clad in red trousers and each held a local lamp. The other five were clad completely in red clothing. But what made his mouth wide opened was their captives; Tina and her friends.
Even more bothersome to Banjo than their appearances was the dagger which was held by the first-five men. His hands trembled where he stood and couldn’t think about what to do. However, when they were few metres away from him, the insects nearby chirped again. His trembling stopped and the trees resumed their activities.
Five daggers were what he saw when the god’s votaries passed. He was sure of that. But they only have four strangers. Banjo thought, except that he was wrong when he followed them to the shrine.
He saw a young lady clad in red clothing which start from her breast to the half of her femur. She was on her knees in front of a black stone on which a lamp was placed. A trough was used to link her with the black stone.
The other four were led into a thatched house and when it was probably five minutes later they returned. Banjo watched the four ladies as they knelt. A trough was also placed in front of them. Banjo knew what this was; a sacrifice. Five strangers to appease the god. The thought of that infuriated him.
‘Why them?’ he asked himself.
But no one was there to answer. Banjo knew if Tina was killed, he won’t be at peace with himself. He needed to save Tina and maybe the rest if he could. He held his rod but knew how useless it will be.
An old man came out of the thatched house. His hair were completely grey and skin wrinkled. Nevertheless, with his firm steps Banjo could tell how strong he was.
The old man collected one of the daggers and with a swift movement sliced through one of the ladies’ throat. When blood gushes into the trough, others chanted and formed a circle round the ladies.
At this time, Banjo still can’t think of what to do. He can’t save Tina and the rest with just a rod. He had seen this act in movies but something was weird about this. And he noticed that when he actually listened to their chant.
No one touches the blood of the god.
When the old man stood in front of Tina, Banjo watched closely and saw no blood splashes on his skin.
At that very moment he knew what to do.
But how? Tina only had few minutes if not seconds to live. She was next in line.
Drops of rain touched his skin and that made his heart raced. But when it started to rain he felt relived. Tina and others were forced to enter a hut while but the guards stayed. Banjo did the headcount; three guards. That made a total of fourteen men.
‘Should I go now?’ He asked himself.
The answer to that was simple. With no skill in martial art or weapon to use, he will be committing a suicide. But when the rain stopped and the ritual was to be continued. Banjo used the tree bark to eat up his flesh and cover it with his sleeve.
‘Why are you here? The high priest asked when the guards brought him in. ‘Who are you here for?’
Banjo decided not to gaze at anyone; of course he’s not stupid.
‘Point now,’ the high priest shouted.
Banjo chuckled. He looked at his hand fleetingly and hoped his theory would work except that he passed out before he could.



Banjo blinked twice before he eventually opened his eyes widely. He felt a tinge of pain when he decided to look sideways. He felt how heavy his hands were but the warmth from his fingers made him to look downward. He smiled when his gaze met with that of Tina.
‘I thought… I…’ he couldn’t find the right word.
Tina smiled and let her lips enjoyed the warmth of his hand. ‘The vigilante saved us all,’ she said.
Banjo nodded slowly. He was certain of something. His life isn’t an epithet of bad luck. His boldness had bought the necessary time to save the four ladies, and that meant a lot to him. Yes, Africa is ready for him.

Following