The City Heroes (5 page)

As our friend the morning walked briskly into brightness, and a cockerel sounded, I woke up with a start. I let out a yawn that took some time to mix with the air, and then my mind began to work. There was so much to achieve this morning. And I must get everything done before my father arrived. My holiday was over and I must return to school. Without wasting time, I got to my feet and began to prepare for my leave. My shirt was dampened with sweat. Since the shirt was the least of my worries, I did not bother about changing it. I took my pair of boots from underneath the bed and put them on.

Then I moved to a corner in my room and grabbed my cage. I was glad to see that the little bird was still alive. As I stared at the poor creature, thoughts flooded my mind. I thought about sneaking away to the forest so I might have a final forest adventure before my father came to collect me and that when I got there, all I would need to do was to find a comfortable place under the shade of a tree, roast the bird and eat it. On the other hand, the thought of killing the bird troubled my mind. When I remembered what my grandmother had said, the thought of killing the poor creature died within me. I grabbed the cage and brought out the bird. Before the creature could blink, I raced out of the house and faced the field as if my own survival depended upon it.

After covering a good distance, I found myself in the forest. The boughs of the trees danced and bowed to the sweet movement of the morning breeze. Spiders hung on the beautiful bushes, their fine webs waiting for fortune to smile on their bravery. Also, birds dropped from the trees to snatch a bit of breakfast from the restaurant of the earth. I was breathing heavily when I stopped running. It was time to let the little creature go. As I heard beautiful tunes from the birds from all corners of the forest, like musicians thrilling their guests at a banquet, I was moved and let the poor soul find its way back into the forest. I moved next to an almond tree and placed the bird on one of the branches. The creature looked at me as it adjusted, and a warm smile paraded across my face. I turned and moved away. I had gone some distance before I glanced behind me, and I was glad to see that the bird had joined its friends.

By the time I got home, my grandmother was already at the gate. A frown hung on her neck like an Olympic medal. As I drew near, she posed a question: “Where have you been, Otok?” Her voice sounded like thunder.

“THE BIRD!” I responded with a quivering voice.

She lowered her spectacles and snarled. “What bird at this time of the day?”

“I took the little bird back to the forest.”

She crossed her arms over her body. “But it is too early.”

“If I had not gone early, I would not have had time to release the bird before my father arrives.”

She pondered my words and smiled as if she'd never had a bad day. “You might be right. But always let someone know where you are going before you leave the house.” After dishing out her advice, she fixed her large innocent eyes on me and a warm smile spread over her face. “Your breakfast is ready,” she declared.

I threw my weight on one leg and replied, “Thank you, Grandma. But what about the roasted goat you promised me?”

She raised an eyebrow and responded, “My servants are up to their responsibilities. Come, let us have a party!”

Rivers of joy flowed through my soul. Quietly, I followed her into the compound. She was true to her words. By the time we got to the dining table, the atmosphere was like a party. As expected, there were a few slices of bread, lemon tea and the roasted goat!

I ate quietly, for anything short of that would have displeased my grandmother. (She'd always said to me that it was not good to talk while eating.) And even before I'd finished eating, she had made ready my luggage, and one of her servants was ordered to make sure that I was well dressed.

After the morning meal, there was still something missing. The urge to go and hunt for the last time hit me with a dreadful sting. So I carried myself to my grandmother who was cleaning cobwebs from the corners in her room.

“Grandma,” I said, “Please, I want to hunt for the last time.”

She brushed a cobweb out of her hair and turned toward me. She lowered her spectacles and looked above them. “What do you mean, Otok?”

“I won't stay long,” I told her.

She stared at me for a while. After a time, she sighed deeply. “I will let you go because you have learned your lesson. But don't stay too long.”

“I won't. Thank you, Grandma.”

Before she could blink, I'd left the room. I got my trap and raced to the field. Arriving, I noticed that birds covered the field like a pasture clothed with flocks. Then I set the trap and hid behind one of the trees. I had barely hidden myself when I heard a sound. All the birds flew away except the one in my trap. I ran with excitement towards the poor creature. Happy that I'd finally snared a bird, I grabbed the creature and raced home. My grandmother was happy and ordered one of her servants to slaughter the bird. Immediately the meal was set, and I told my grandmother I would reserve a portion for my father, and she agreed.

At mid-day, my grandmother gave me two shirts, two pairs of trousers and a pair of boots, and I felt as if I were the greatest human on earth. As I admired my new clothes on the veranda, one of the servants raced into the compound and announced that my father had arrived. Before the servant could finish talking, my father had entered the premises. His movements were confident, as if he had just won a lottery. He was dressed in native attire and hid his lips under a heavy line of moustache. He had no time to spare. After lunch with my grandparents, at which my roasted fowl was served, we left the countryside in the company of my grandparents and two servants. When we got to the park, we boarded a vehicle that was bound for the city.

There is no one I miss more than my grandmother. As she waited at the park until our vehicle rolled gently away, we waved goodbye to her. And certainly, my next holiday was better imagined.

The farmer was distraught that eggs had been stolen from his farm. He had tried to catch the thief, but he had failed.

The farmer, who was called Ajayi, had just lain down to rest after checking the farm to see if there was any trouble. But the farmer's rest was cut short by a noise that came from the area where the poultry were kept. Ajayi jumped to his feet and wiped his face with the back of his hands, as if he had only dozed off for a minute! He grabbed his torch and flashed it beside his bed where he kept his cutlass. Then he grabbed the cutlass and ran out of the room, leaving the door wide open. He faced the farm with good speed, shining the torch in the direction of the noise. Anger shone on his face as he ran.

Sensing danger and hearing footsteps coming his way, the thief grabbed the basket of eggs and raced to a tree near the fence. Before the old man could reach the farm, the thief had climbed the fence and descended by the ladder that he'd propped against the wall. Touching the earth, he heaved a sigh of relief and looked about to make sure that no eye was watching. Then he placed the basket on the ground and brought down the ladder. Happy that he had not been caught, the thief smiled. He placed the basket on his head then took up the ladder and moved into the shadows.

Ajayi was sad when he got to the farm, because over half his eggs were gone. With the torchlight, he traced the footprints of the thief to the almond tree. He surmised that the thief must have climbed the tree and gone the other way. He hissed as he returned to the building, and slammed the door behind him.

After he had dropped the torch and cutlass on the table, Ajayi sat on the bed with hand to chin, gazing at the ceiling. Weariness weighed upon him, and he knew he must get some rest in order to face the morning. He climbed into bed and settled himself under the soothing weight of the cover.

It was early but buyers were already at the farm to buy eggs. But the eggs were not enough, and some people had to go elsewhere. The farmer was sad. So he went under a shade tree to milk a cow. As he worked silently, an old friend walked in. Smiling faintly, the visitor, Mr. Bode, posed a question: “Great farmer, how are you?” He sat on the chair beside his friend and crossed his legs.

“Fine, my brother,” Ajayi replied. He masked his anger with a smile and got back to work.

“You are always busy, Ajayi. How is your family?”

There was no answer.

Sensing that his friend was unhappy, Bode sat up and asked, “What is wrong, Ajayi?”

Ajayi rose to his feet. “Last night my eggs were stolen!” he hissed and turned away.

“You mean a thief visited your farm last night?” Mr. Bode shook his head. “What a wicked world! Did you catch the thief?”

“No, he escaped before I could catch him,” Mr. Ajayi told his friend.

Bode crossed his arms over his body. “You have been complaining about this thief for a long time,” he said and coughed. “It is now a bone in your neck.”

“Yes, but I will have my way—someday!” Ajayi spoke confidently as their eyes met.

Bode nodded. “Oh, you will. Everyday is for the thief, but one day is for the owner of the house. If I may ask, how do you intend to stop the thief?”

Ajayi sighed deeply. He glanced at his guest, who was anxiously awaiting a response. But since he was not ready to reveal his plans, he replied, “I don't have any plan in my head yet.”

“This is not your best of times,” the visitor confided. “But perhaps…”

“Please tell me,” Ajayi insisted.

“Perhaps your workers have a hand in this!” Bode speculated. He raised an eyebrow.

Mr. Ajayi pondered his words. Not convinced, he turned to his friend and replied, “I trust my workers. They don't steal!”

The visitor chuckled and commented, “You sound like a man under a spell.”

“Really?”

“You are a businessman, Ajayi. Don't get me wrong: I did not mean to say that it is a crime to trust people. But a friend by day could be an enemy by night.”

Ajayi remained skeptical but conceded, “I will watch closely to see if I have a thief among them.”

Then there was silence.

A moment later, Tolu, one of Mr. Ajayi's workers, walked in. “Sir, tomorrow will be a great day!” he announced with a warm smile.

Ajayi and his guest exchanged a glance. The farmer sat up and asked, “What do you mean, Tolu?”

“The laying hens are doing well. We have over seven crates of eggs now!” Tolu disclosed.

Mr. Ajayi smiled faintly. “Good! I will tell you what to do as soon as we are through with work today.”

“Okay sir,” Tolu replied with a bow and moved away.

As soon as the worker had left, Mr. Bode tapped his friend on the shoulder and asked, “What do you want to tell the lad?”

“Tolu is a good worker. I want to give him some money. A good worker deserves a bonus,” he explained.

Mr. Bode nodded quietly and said, “That's a good idea. That will make him work even harder.” Then he rose to his feet. “My friend, I must leave now. You know my wife is pregnant. We expect our baby any moment now.”

Mr. Ajayi nodded. “You must remain close to your wife. You have always had male children. A female child will be a treasure this time!”

“Yes, that is my fondest wish.”

The farmer walked his visitor to the gate. As soon as he was gone, Ajayi slammed the gate behind him. He stood staring at the beautiful earth, lost in his thought. After a time, he swallowed hard and walked toward the shade.