The Seventh Man

CHAPTER ONE

I have always loved adventures – rock climbing, stream strolling, bush hunting, and the likes of it. I enjoy it most when I am far away in my village, away from the urban disturbances of traffic jams, contaminated air, and everything you can think about that is associated with urban pollution. My only problem with the village is the fact that a lot of the villages seem not to be compliant with the modern day life.

Some folks down in the village are so narrow-minded; you can hardly believe the things they fall for. I remember one of those days during my Christmas holidays in the village; I was taking a stroll with my brother Lotanna when we bumped into six village children with their heads faced down in a circle. Curiously, Lotanna and I walked towards them to have a look at what they were doing.

Right in their middle was a little calabash with shreds of palm fronds, and they passed a stone from one person to another, making some kind of incantations along. Lotanna thought it was the usual village ‘afro-tech’ (a term used for black magic), and was almost on his heels. I called him back, and told him it wasn’t possible for such a practice to be done in the open. Lulu, he said to me, you seem to forget that this is a village where their practices are barbaric and can be practiced at any time of the day. If you want to watch, suit yourself, I am going.

I couldn’t understand Lotanna’s fright and so I held him back, trying to convince him that this might be one of those village games that the children played to keep themselves busy. One of the children seemed to have noticed my brother and I and pointed at us. The others looked up, and noticing the fright on Lotanna’s face and his shaky hands, they all burst out in laughter. I guess their style of laughter seemed to have made it worse for Lotanna. Indeed, with their brownish and scattered teeth, probably from infrequent brushing and kolanuts eating, they could pass out for little witches, trying to get a grip on the witches acts. To my utmost amazement, Lotanna knocked my hands off, and took off like lightning.

I stood still, watching and wondering what had become of my brother. Meanwhile, the children were having fun and laughing it off. I knew they weren’t witches, because I could read it in their eyes. Even their bodies were rough with dust, and wrinkled with premature aging due to the daily hard work probably at the farm, and over exposure to the sun, I could still see in their eyes that innocence of a child. I summoned courage and walked up to them, and they immediately stopped laughing and fixed their gaze on me, wondering what could be next. Then I smiled, to assure them it was for peace and they reciprocated. How are you? one of them asked, in a most childish manner. Boy, was I glad he could speak English. I’m very well, thank you, I responded, at the same time thinking of how to go about my question. To be sure he really knew how to speak English, and was not just repeating one of those phrases he must have heard from visitors, I asked another question. What are you doing? I asked, hoping he would comprehend that. The first boy who spoke last seemed a bit lost and looked to the others for help.

Wow! The confusion of children could be quite interesting sometimes. The look on their faces was like that of a group of people who had a puzzle to unravel. They started speaking in their native language, probably trying to crack the answer to what I had said, while I stood there patiently waiting. Then one of them who was a girl, but obviously a tomboy by the way she was dressed and her carriage, jumped up in excitement and said, yes, do- do. We doing tunbo, tunbo. Even though that was the worst phrase of English language I had ever heard, I knew exactly what she was trying to say. Tunbo, tunbo is slang for the local way of casting lots, and it had taken the children almost five minutes to organize those words, albeit terribly.

At least, I was glad to know that I was right about what I told my brother. I couldn’t wait to see his face when I tell him that the children he thought were witches were actually casting lots. I stayed a while with them, and told them by gestures to continue with their lots casting while I watched. Even though I couldn’t imagine that people still cast lots in this age, I just concluded that this was an unadulterated village where ancient activities were still as relevant as in the time of old.

Of course, Lotanna was embarrassed when I told him what I had found out about the children. To cover up, he told me he was just being careful so as not to underestimate the ancient practices of the village witches. I really didn’t blame Lotanna, because he had heard too many stories about witches and their escapades in the village. The village was actually synonymous with witchcraft, because as my grandmum puts it, the cities are too developed for their practices, so they’ll rather settle in the villages. But how true this was, I really didn’t care to know.

Life in the village was something I couldn’t really say much about, because I didn’t visit often. And whenever I did, the visit was always very brief. But back in the city where my brother and I lived with our parents, things were so different.

Of course, the city comes with its own ups and downs, just as the village. But any day, any time, I’ll go for the city. My family lived in the ever-popular Lagos city, where everything seemed to be working, and at the same time not working. It was like the more you look, the less you see.

Lagos is not a city that you want to just hear about. The fact is that most people who have heard about Lagos, and never made an attempt to visit, end up living with an illusion about it. One of the popular impressions about Lagos is that it is very rough, and not very safe. In a way, that statement is true, and at the same time not true. Like I said earlier, Lagos is a city of the more you look, the less you see. So, it is advisable that you look less.

You can definitely survive in Lagos, if you know how the system works. Rule number one don’t be overly gentle. If you do, you’ll be taken for a fool and a J.J.C (jolly just come), and you’ll be oppressed beyond description by the people who call themselves the smart ones, or the sons of the soil. Secondly, don’t be overly aggressive, especially when the situation does not really call for it. It might be taken as a challenge, and God help you if you do not have what it takes to face those boys, and sometimes girls, who seem possessed with uncivilized demons.

This reminds me of a story my uncle told me about one of his friends Zinni who was visiting Lagos for the first time, and was unlucky to find himself in a situation that day. According to my uncle, they had just come out of an eatery, when they saw a man beating up a woman. People were watching, and nobody could do a thing. Zinni was aghast and ran to the scene of the fight, pulling the woman away from the man’s ferocious blows. Then he faced the man who was obviously not satisfied with his punches, and started threatening him with court action.

The raging man grabbed my uncle’s friend Zinni by the shirt, and threatened, if you don’t mind your business, I will send you to the great beyond. His voice sounded like thunder, and Zinni expected that at least, his friend would come to his rescue. But my uncle said for fear of being beaten to a pulp, he just stood there, begging the man to let his friend go. He is new in the country. My uncle said. That seemed to enrage the man the more, as he raised Zinni up in the air grabbing him by the throat, and rattled. So you are not one of us, and you are talking, ehn? Zinni’s face was filled with horror, as he was beginning to lose his breath. My uncle had to solicit for help from passersby who came to Zinni’s rescue.

By the time Zinni was able to get himself together, he told my uncle how disappointed he was at him, and angrily asked to be taken back to his hotel. My uncle apologized and told him that the face of the man was deathly, and if there was going to be any casualty, one should be enough.

Oh well, strange as it may seem, Lagos is not a place where you get into an unsolicited fight, hoping that someone would come to your rescue in the case of a critical situation. Well, that is all I have to say about the city of Lagos, and would leave the rest to anyone who wants to venture a visit.

But a great event happened to me that I’d love everyone to know about, and may be learn one or two lessons from it. Some of us think we know ourselves, and capabilities. But at the end of the day, we find ourselves venturing into activities that we could never imagine even if an angel had revealed it to us.

CHAPTER TWO

I have the sweetest bond with my little family of four; my father, mother, brother and I. Small as we seem, there are lots of feats we have achieved as a result of the strength in our unity.

My parents love my brother and I, and we both know it. And of course, as the typical spoilt children that we had grown to be, we seldom took advantage of it. My parents didn’t really mean to spoil us, but it just turned out that way.

My father is a mechanic, a very successful one. What attracts me most to his job is his uniform. Whenever I see him in that uniform, there is something it does to me. I can’t explain it, but I just see a person who has a serious business at hand. Another thing about my father is his relationship with his employees. As far as he is concerned they were more of colleagues than subordinates, and it helped work go smoother and faster. He prefers that he be called by his name, but has not been able to convince them to do so. His employees popularly call him ‘Boss Tony’. Not in the exact meaning of the word, but just a way of reminding themselves that this person who laughs and eats with them is actually the boss. To my father, it was irrelevant, but there was nothing he could do to change it.

My mother is one of those carefree women who wants everything to work for everybody. I guess she’s one of the reasons we got spoilt, because my father was hardly around, and she had to do the bulk of the training alone. She is a retired accountant, and very good at her accounting work even at home. My mother can audit even the least of grains in the house. She has a way of knowing when some of these things are not just in place. From food to money, water, furniture and everything you can think of in a house, my mother has a grip over them. At a point we were all feeling like bankers who had to work with caution, and give an account of the daily activities in the house. That part, my brother and I didn’t like. My father didn’t really have a problem with it, and I wouldn’t blame him. He was hardly at home. But the sweetest thing about my mother was her name. I always said that her parents had thought well before christening her ‘Patience.’ According to her name, she was patient indeed, and had all the time in the world to sort through every situation that presented itself.

My only brother is one person I am yet to understand. He is neither here nor there. Today he wants one thing, and tomorrow it’s another. I used to tease him that he was that way because he was born premature, and didn’t come to the world with a fully matured human mind. It used to hurt him so much; he could sulk for the rest of the day. But besides that, Lotanna was a brother indeed. At nineteen and only a year older than I was, he was always ready to drop his will for mine. That part of him made me love him more and more. Lotanna had the beauty of a woman, and everyone told him. He was a carbon copy of my mother, but didn’t have my mother’s height. Whenever he teased me and said I was as lanky as my father, I always told him he was as short as my mother and that was because he didn’t pay his development fee in heaven. The truth of the matter is that it was my granny who put those words in my mouth.

Being the only girl, and a carbon copy of my father, I was my granny’s favorite. My father was her only child, and after I was born, she took to me as her second child. So whenever my brother teased me about my lanky looks, it upset her so much. One day, after the usual teasing between my brother and I, she called me and said, Lulu, you can’t let your brother always win this fight of words. Let me tell you what to say to him next time he calls you miss Lanky; look over his head, since you are taller than he is, and tell him to go and pay his development fee in heaven. Those were the best words I had ever heard.

Immediately, I went to him and started the war of words. As expected, he was quick to respond, and called me Miss Lanky. I smiled with mischief and said exactly what granny told me to say. First, he acted like it didn’t matter, but after a while, I saw my brother sulking and acting like he had heard a very bad news. I got excited about it, and that became my weapon. And because my brother didn’t like those words, he did his best to avoid quarrels between us.

Now, even though my granny was a pal to me, there were times she just made me feel like sending her to the grave. Granny had been living with us for the last five years, and even though my parents didn’t have a problem with it, my brother and I thought otherwise. Indeed, she’s a good Christian like we all are, but sometimes I think she takes it a little bit to the extreme.

Granny was almost as tall as my father, but fatter. And I give the credit of her weight to the lots of meat and bread she loves to eat. Mealtime with granny was always a task. First of all, we had to pray for so long that at the end of the prayer, everyone had smelt enough of the food, and was no longer hungry. But granny would pounce on her food, not caring about everyone. Again, she had a way of classifying everything as good or evil, especially when my brother and I argued with either of our parents about what we wanted. From nowhere, granny would come and shout, It is evil to argue with your parents. Don’t you know what the bible says about honoring your father and mother? Lotanna and I would just stare at her, and because she was granny we couldn’t do anything but boil inside of us. But all together, I think granny is just a great complement to us all.

One Sunday evening after church, Lotanna and I had a bitter quarrel. Someone had spilled some water in the kitchen, and I was so sure he was the one. When I asked, he snapped at me, and I didn’t think that was funny. My cousin Dorcas, who was visiting, took sides with Lotanna and told me I was too fussy. I couldn’t contain my anger anymore, and grabbed her by her dress, warning her to keep away from my business.

My granny heard our voices and came out to the kitchen. And what is going on here? she asked. Seeing her, and as a mark of respect, I loosened my grip from Dorcas and told her that Lotanna had spilled some water on the floor, and snapped at me when I asked him to clean it up. Before I could say another word, Dorcas snapped and said, that serves you right for accusing him wrongly. You are just a bully. I didn’t understand Dorcas’ interest in this, and raised my hands to hit her. But then I remembered granny was still there, and then I walked away from her so I won’t be tempted. But to my utmost surprise granny called me back, and in the unkind manner she said, You don’t need to walk away. In your heart you have already committed the sin of beating your younger cousin. The bible says that whatever you do in your heart is as good as done. So ask God to forgive you. Then she hissed and walked away.

Those words broke my heart and got me so angry. How could granny say such things to me, and leave Dorcas and Lotanna out of it. Dorcas was definitely having a swell time as