THE UNKNOWN HANDS (EPISODE ELEVEN)

STORY SERIES

…that only a few weeks into my father’s death, Pa Lapite suddenly came out of the blues. I was greatly surprised too, at the way the members of my father’s family welcomed him. It was just as if he was a victorious warrior just returning home from the battlefront. Even

though I was a little boy, I knew he was not a man I should greet and I had simply frowned. Unknown to me, I was going to be handed to him later. When he unexpectedly came, there was virtually nothing I could do to resist the move neither could I express my hatred for the man I was asked to follow shortly after the family meeting had been held. I wept like a child but there was no fruit tears could bear in such circumstance save headache and general body pains. Moreso, my new hostile master would have none of my weepings once, he had held me firmly with his grip. With the round of slaps the man had been plastering on my face, I learnt that I was in for a terrible experience. I accepted my fate as it were. A deprived orphan is never known to probe his father’s death.

At the time when my father died, I was considered too young to own any property. For one, I had not been initiated into any cult of adults. Besides it was believed that anything placed in the care of a child like me would be mismanaged, so it was impossible for me to inherit my father’s property. One could not really blame members of my father’s family for the step they took. Perhaps it was the best step any family would have taken. The only problem was that the only person in charge of the property until I was old enough made me a subject of oppression and no one was ready to understand my plight. These various thoughts came one after the other as I followed my new friends-The hunter and his party.

At Alafa, I was lucky to meet a man who disclosed that he knew my parents. I had just finished a meal of pounded yam which I ate with relish when the hunter called on me to bring a calabash of palm wine beside where I sat to where he was sitting with his friends. As I drew nearer, some of those who saw me were quick to note that I was a strange figure in that compound.

“Who is he?” I heard some of them ask my host. I overheard him narrating to them how we had met. When one of the listeners heard I was from Orija, he was more interested. This, I learnt later, because he too was there. He called me to his side and made enquiries concerning the son of whom I was and the name of our compound. I told him everything and was happy to hear the man say that he knew my father. At the end of it all, I was left with no doubt that he actually knew everything about my father. I was overjoyed and almost immediately, started to see him as someone who could assist me out of my predicament. I narrated all my problems to him and with all the attention he gave me, even going as  far as excusing himself from the others and taking more to a  secluded place, it was obvious that he felt great concern for me. I was later to learn that Baba Fatokun, for that was his name, was actually my father’s friend even though they had later quarreled after a matter and he had lost all contact with him having left Orija to settle permanently at Ayedaade. It was during the course of his story that I got to know that the meeting they were having at my host’s compound was the hunter’s seasonal meeting and he had come all the way from Ayedaade for just that. He also disclosed that he would be returning to his abode the following morning and asked whether I would like to come with him. It was a proposal I cherished greatly, for, I had begun to see… To be continued on Thursday.

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