THE UNKNOWN HANDS (EPISODE EIGHT)

…to stop indefinitely as I was too young to continue it all alone and my problems started from there. He barely managed to trek back to the village after the sickness had become too serious and had defied all solutions. It was a pity that there was nobody around to assist. We

really missed mother so much that I would have preferred that my father had another wife to take care of him under such a terrible situation. I couldn’t help much in the matter because for one, my father’s utterances were becoming more and more inaudible and sometimes when he needed me, I was already off with some friends in a bid to put the woeful experience behind me for some time.

My father’s elder brother, Baba Famorijin, was of tremendous help at the time. Apart from releasing one of his wives to take care of my father, he was never short of one herb or another as well as ensuring that my father used them. It was he who brought one aged man who revealed that someone very close to my father was the brain behind the sickness.

“The insect that destroys the vegetable lives on it” he had said.

But as if there was a conspiracy against my father, the soothsayer had hardly concluded his findings when some of those around disrupted the proceedings, accusing the man of being a fake diviner who could not explain how food got into the stomach. Even though I was still small then, I felt pity for the old man especially as he was trying to explain how long he had been in the business but those around, with the exception of Baba Famorijin, simply asked him to leave. Even as he was doing that, he was almost beaten up in the heat of argument generated by his presence. It was that quarrel that forced Baba Famorijin to withdraw all his assistance from us. He left our compound in annoyance and returned to his farm settlement, Agbearaka.

“Whatever you want to do with him, you are now free”

I heard him say as he was leaving. I was full of tears that he was departing at a time where his father’s condition had become so critical that his hope of survival was very lean. It was then a thought occurred to me that one of the jokes he had cracked to my dying father’s ears on his arrival was somehow true. He had told my father that if he had married more than one wife, he, Baba Famorijin, would not have needed to bring his own wife to cater for him.

“Thank your stars that I have a woman to spare, being not as selfish as you”, He had joked.

There was an element of wisdom in what he has said, for, if he had had one wife like my father, it would not have been possible for him to release her since he too would readily need her service. I did not agree, however, that my father was selfish. In fact, he could go for the most generous person on earth. His refusal to marry more than one wife was not out of selfishness but more of principle. Sad enough, those who have frustrated Baba Famorijin’s efforts were never ready to render any alternative assistance after his exit and it was full pains that my father had passed away. That night,… To be continued on Thursday.

Story series is published every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Don’t miss it.