STORY SERIES
…started to think over what their next line of action would be. The
fact that I knew I was not guilty in any way strengthened me and I was full of
hope that my end would not come soon, no matter how profusely I bled.
I was terribly hungry, almost starving to death until Goroye
brought me some burnt yam with which he fed me. Before doing so, he too was
prepared for the worst. He had shared my trouble all through, for, even when I
was nearly killed by those two men, I had watched him also rolling on the
ground in sympathy. He untied me having briefed me on the new development. His
people had decided to take me back to Orija the following day to find out
whatever my stories about my origin were true and to hand me over to my people
should the stories be true. Goroye knew I would rather die than return home and
he advised that I should find my way off that place immediately.
I heeded his advice. Having thanked him for all his cares, I
sneaked into the bush at the back of the compound and wandered slowly over
several kilometers into the bush until I came to a narrow path leading to where
I knew not. I followed the path until I came to a village named Ifofin the same
day. I learnt from the villagers that it was just a few kilometers from
Ayedaade and I realized that I should not keep long there.
It was already getting too dark to continue my wandering and I
decided to pass the night there before deciding what next to do. Besides, I was
even sick with all my body aching as if I was placed inside a burning flame. I
shuffled to the evening market where I found the last batch of traders packing
up their wares for home. I felt like explaining my situation to one of them
perhaps she could house me for that night. Yet I was quick to realize that such
a step could bring me undue exposure which might not be favorable. So, I just
sat near an uncompleted building and pretended to be waiting for someone until
they had all left.
My experience at Ifofin was however what I would not forget in a
hurry. At that market which I made my stopover was a big baobab tree. Part of
its stem was painted black and another black cloth was tied to one of its
branches almost touching the ground. The size of that tree alone was enough to
bring fears to a child as none of all trees around it was even one–tenth its
size. Its roots stood out conspicuously above the ground leaving one with the impression
that it could fall at any time. A closer look however would convince any
observer that it was still firmly rooted to the ground. Various strange stories
surrounded the existence of such a tree. I had heard speculations in the past
that such trees were inhibited by demons while some people had stressed that witches
had their meetings on them. No one could say with any precision, however,
whether these stories true or not.
A few meters opposite this…to be continued on Thursday.
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