A massive flood full of sad punches hissed down small

and big structures that barred its way in the slum

town of Oheri, where a deep creek primed by the flood

swelled to distinction.

With heavy heart and compelled by the trafficking

money dangling before him, Obene defiled the

outlandish hissing of the flood, again and again, as

he forged his way forcefully through the barring

poetry of the flood. The sound of the flood possessed

the whole place, and debris of all parlances played

out the flood’s script.

He encountered two men fighting in the flood, while

the rain cloud threatened with barks of another bite

on the earth. The men shouted in ghastly notes, rammed

themselves together in clangorous tones and fail into

the flood. The flood consumed them with dirty water

and rubbish, and they became unseen battling beings in

the cover of the flood for sometime before they

riotously emerged from the flood and continued their

theatre of war.

Obene watched them decant planks from the growing

flood that was up to his knee and constituted the

planks as weapons. Blood began to bore testimony to

the feverish theatre. He watched blood mingle with the

flood in a blurring note from one of the fighters. He

watched flood mingle with blood.

Obene got to Ido’s house just as the rainstorm pieced

itself into a giant fountain of noise. He extended a

cold knock on the door sick with crack and amends

wrought with rusted wires and nails.

"Who?"

"I!"

"Who is I?"

"Obene !"

"Obene?"

The door creaked and rocked open. Ido’s face popped

out, examined Obene feverishly with cold air, and

urged him into the house.

Buta was sleeping on the floor. Rags that posed as

cloths hung on nails posted on the walls. Rainwater

wriggled into the room from the savagely aged roof.

The cold inside challenged the cold outside.

Obene sat down.

"Is that the child?"

"Yes, my only son, Buta, 10 years."

"His age is okay."

"Okay?"

"Yes."

"For two days, we have eaten nothing except garri and

palm kernels. We are dying of hunger. Since my husband

died last year, we have been suffering... his people do

not care about us."

"Do not worry. Soon very soon, you will have abundant

to eat, and to even give away- when Buta goes to a

cocoa farm in Ivory Coast, he will work and earn

enough money which will be sent to you as quickly as

possible."

"How soon?"

"Very, very soon. The farms are vast and rich. You

will be given money in dollars or pounds- which ever

one you prefer."

The rainstorm thundered on, and they heard sound of a

crashing house in the sprawling slum, and a distant

cry of sorrow.

"Tonight. He will come with me, and it is the

beginning of your star of riches and glory. You will

be able in few weeks to stand tall in the slum, with

your money, and command the slum dwellers as you wish,

and watch them dance to your hoots, and even lick your

dusty shoes clean, and in the gathering of your fellow

women, you will be able to display your riches and

over flowing stocks of costly costumes."

***

Night wore a heavy face when Buta was taken into a

room where nine children were sleeping hurdled

together like empty sacks. There was nothing in the

room except a mat on which the children were sleeping.

He knew Obene locked the door. He sat on a small space

left on the mat and waited for the children to rise

from sleep. The room was ghastly dirty and chorused an

offensive odor. A stray moonlight dazzled the room

faintly. Owls hooted, inconsolably, very close.

One of the sleeping children awoke, saw Buta, and sat

down.

Their eyes traded unquiet contact, and steered away.

Buta watched him stand up, walk to the door and tried

to open it, but the door stood firmly rooted.

"Who are you?"

"Buta."

"Akpan."

"My mother gave me to the man who brought me into this

room."

"My father gave me to them. My father gave me to them.

My father-a retired worker always denied his pension."

"My mother, a widow...they said I would work in a

cocoa farm…and earn for my mother dollars."

"They said I would earn pounds for my father.

My father danced and danced and blew his flute

hotly to celebrate his new found source of wealth - in

hard currency."

"My mother did not dance nor sing as she usually do in

any good situation that comes our way. She was crying

when I left, but, but I did not cry. I cannot cry. It

is for our good. She has been suffering. Nobody cares

for her. My father’s people, all they do, is threaten

her...on one occasion, my father’s big sister

slapped my mother and she cried with swollen eyes, and

I cried too...so, I must go to this rich farm and

earn money for my lovely mother. I hate to see her

suffer."

The other children awoke from sleep.

"But I wonder why they always lock the door," Akpan

said.

"I wonder, too," Buta said.

The door of the room opened with a loud blaring

sound. A woman with a solemn - ridden face came in with

a large bowl. She placed the bowl before them

expressionlessly, walked out, and closed the door with

another loud blaring sound. The children looked at

each other as the sound faded away.

Akpan looked into the bowl and saw ten small lumps of

yam in a watery presence, and said,

"We are starving. We are scantily fed, upon all their

stories of piles of money. For five days that we were

brought into this room, they have been serving us

things that look like stool and muddy affair. Am I not

saying the truth, Ado?"

"You are," Ado answered, "but it is better than what I

eat at home."

Buta picked one lump of yam and started eating it. The

other boys did the same. They heard a dart of an angry

trade of words outside through the door, and listened

for a long time and did not hear any sound further.

"This room is like a police cell." Buta reasoned. "It

is a cell."

Akpan gave the bowl to Buta.

"Thank you," Buta said, as he took the bowl and

stretched his right fingers into the bowl and started

dribbling the tasteless liquid in the bowl into his

mouth.

***

The day declared its scene open. A stray sunlight set

the room faintly aglow. On finding the day awake, Buta

wanted to go to the toilet, and said,

"I want to empty my bowel."

"You want to?"Akpan asked, in the faint presence of

sleep

"Toilet."

"Go to the extreme end," Akpan said, as he rose up and

walked towards the window, "of the room and ease yourself.

"This room?"

"Yes."

"It is not healthy."

"They know it. We know it too."

The other children stirred away from the arm of sleep.

"This room is also our toilet" Akpan said.

Buta sat on a pillar of thought.

"This is a cell, indeed," Akpan confirmed, "as you

rightly said in the night - like a brutal police cell

in my place that people talk about."

The door threw itself open roughly, and the woman with

solemn-ridden face came in and collected the bowl.

Buta greeted her, while none of the other boys cared

to greet her, and she did not respond. Before she

stepped out of the room, Buta thunderously stated,

"Please, this room is too filthy for human habitation,

please, find me a broom to sweep it, and it is not

healthy using the same room both for human habitation

and for a toilet."

The woman responded by slapping the door close,

roughly.

They could hear the wind caressing the trees outside,

and the birds enjoying their freedom with songs and

slapping of wings.

A fierce argument began to rage outside the bounds of the

room, and they listened attentively, but they could

not decipher anything.

"I don’t understand." Buta said.

"I, too." Ado said.

"I don’t." Akpan said.

The argument gave way to the sound of struggle outside

the bounds of the room, and they listened.

"It appears that some people are fighting."Buta

guessed.

"May be." Akpan said.

"I think that I may fall sick because of the deadly

odor here." Buta said.

Ado laughed heartily and said,

"No odour can make me fall sick for our slum place has

a mighty repulsive odour that has no match."

"Buta," Akpan called, "you will soon get used to this

room’s repulsive air."

"I cannot." Buta replied.

The sound of struggle was no more.

Suddenly, Buta began to vomit and they rallied round

him and held him.

"Easy." They rolled.

Buta cleaned his hands and cloths with his hand. They

consoled him.

"We are not free, here." He said.

"It is true." The other boys agreed.

"We are not free."

"It is true."

A great foul air captured the room with a terrible

zeal, and a great wall of discomfort stood before

them.

"Hum!" Buta guarded his nose feverishly, "who let this

terrible air out of his anus?"

Nobody responded to him. The great foul air mingled

with the unnerving odor that has been and great was

the odor of the room.

Akpan shot a dream of what he would like to be in the

future before them,

"A great teacher I will be in future. I will teach

against evil, against..."

"I only dream," Ado interrupted rudely, "of getting my

stomach full in the, and let hunger run away

from me."

"People dream," Akpan philosophized, "of becoming

great, and you dream of food."

"Because we cannot continue to beg for food," Ado said

in defense.

"First," Akpan pressed, "be a great person, and then

food will not be the problem."

"First," Ado argued, "get food to eat, and then, you

will be a great person."

"First, a great person!"

"First, food!"

"Great person!"

"Food!"

"Great person!"

"Food!"

"You are wrong!"

"You are wrong!"

"I am right!"

"I am right!"

"First..."

"This is a cell." Buta said.

"It is." The other boys chorused.

Ado walked to one end of the room and defecated. The

room became instantly possessed by the repulsive odor

of faeces.

They watched Buta interestingly as he struggled to

topple the odor as he feverishly covered his nose in

futility. They did not care to cover their noses, and

out of a sudden dart of laughter, Akpan said,

"That is the life in this room - in this cell." And

Ado said,

"I do not care about the odor of the room - for it is

not much different from the ghastly odor that

pervades our slum place."

Buta began to cry, walked to the window tried to open

it, and found out that it was rigidly closed from the

outside. He pressed his nose on the window and rested

there. His tears raged and built up into a remarkable

train. Somehow, the cry of birds from outside began to

console him as he listened.

Suddenly Akpan began to sing a toneless song harvested

from his memory, and they listened to him, rise to the

climax and then come down, and he said,

"For all the days that we have been here, we have not

taken our bath nor changed our cloths - the journey to

earn from cocoa farms lavish riches and glory."

"You have not?" Buta said in surprise, "I am beginning

to change my mind - I will tell Mr. Obene to take me

back to my mother, until they are ready will I be

ready, to go."

"Are you changing your mind?" Akpan asked.

The door responded to the question before Buta could.

Obene came into the room; with a face as heavy as a

storm cloud.

" Bring them in!" He ordered.

Two men urged four teenage girls into the room. The

door clenched its mouth as Obene and the men walked

out of the room.

***

When the night was in deep display of its might, the

door opened with a staggering noise. Obene appeared

with two fistic-looking men.

They guided the children out of the room onto the

stage of a vast sprawling darkness.

"The journey has begun," somebody said.

The might of the night was such that nobody’s figure

could easily be deciphered from the quagmire that was

the night’s lot for the children. The children

stumbled and fell down on and on, as they

were led into a forest. The sound of the forest’s

nocturnal creatures countered the unquiet silence of

the men and the children. The children endowed a

turmoil that was both a forest of darkness and the

silence of the men around them.

"Please, it is too dark for us to go without any

torchlight..." Buta ventured.

"Shut up!" A voice cried.

Buta hit a stump and fell down like a thunder-stricken

tree. Obene shot him up with his hands. Tears formed a

well in Buta’s eyes, and guided their ways down his

face in trickles. He felt a boiling wound on his right

toe. Suddenly the tears began to challenge flood.

"Yes...the water body". Obene said. They stopped

walking.

"Set the canoe in order." The two men set the canoe in

order.

"Set?"

"Yes."

They guided the children into the canoe. They were well

crammed in the canoe. In the darkness, the canoe sailed

further into the darkness.

"The ship is not far."

"More in the ship."

"More."

The darkness clenched them deeper and deeper.

"I am afraid of this night sea journey." Buta said

in the mist of tears.

The expanding clench of the darkness appeared to be

the only response to him.

"It is too dark!" he said again.

Obene slapped him in a fist of anger. He cried loudly.

Obene threatened ghastly to throw him into the sea

if he did not stop crying. Out of fear, Buta subdued

the torment of pain in him.

Suddenly, a mighty rainstorm descended on them, such

that the darkness of the night was immense. As the

rainstorm increased its might, all the children began

to cry. Obene’s threatening poise did not calm them

down.

The canoe was on a vast mass of water. They went very

far from the land. The feverish hand of cold was

upon everybody in the canoe.

A strong wind began to blow, stirring the canoe against

its appointed course. The canoe began to head towards

the deep sea. The two men tried to counter the wind’s poise

with a counterpoise by paddling against the wind, but

it was a futile act.

Some one began to pray.

" That is good," Obene said "that is timely. There is

nothing like prayer! A good one! Well carved! Flows!

Flows like a river!"

The person was still praying. He was shouting. Obene

was still talking-and shouting. But the storm was

mocking their voices by banging, by thundering.

"Turn! Turn!" Obene shouted, longing to use his will

to turn the canoe back from the sea, and turned wildly

as if he has gone mad.

"Turn! Turn what?" someone shouted.

Obene shot out a blind ball of his right fingers into

the darkness, as an answer.

The storm was a maddening increase of sad punches,

grinding sadder and sadder.

Some one accidentally toppled into the sea leaving

behind ghastly echoes like the sound of a memory of a

coin tossed into a vast water body.

" A drowning prodigy. A drowning place."Obene

shouted to himself; he knew that he was the only one

that heard his own words, for nothing was heard or

could be heard except the sound of the storm.

The canoe began to behave like a speck of dust,

aimless, drift-ridden and helpless before the wind. A

spirited struggle tempted Obene , though he has lost

the strength to bark like a dog, but he could bite

like a dog. And at the touch of a feather of pain, from

a sudden unconscious punch from a man’s fist, he

punched and slapped rudely around, hitting Ado badly.

Ado was emptied into the sea by the effect. Buta did

not see it, but felt it.

"A drowning … a drowning," Obene said coldly.

The cold was a growing war against them. It was a

deathly icy star.

" Keep the canoe!"Obene shouted.

Buta began a chattering display of his teeth, and with

that came a bleeding gum which he felt with his tongue

of ice.

They saw nothing but darkness and darkness and they

kept seeing it. They were all crying when something

broke in the canoe, and that cracking event added to

their well and welling of tears.

The rainstorm lowered its mast. Buta could here voices

that dangled close to the fringe of madness. He was

shivering under the icy cloud of cold; and the blood

in his mouth was large enough to fill two teaspoons.

" Yes. It has gone!"Obene shouted, " that full

struggle to spoil my business. It will not work.Oh!

That fool full of sea. Full of sea energy. Ah!

Children rejoice. You can still make it. We can still

make it. We can …"

A thunder cackled.

"Ah! Children, my children,"O bene continued, "

conspirators. Against my business. I have been in this

for seven years! I need glorification. May be that is

what the sea and its mates want to give me after their

tempest. Children, ha, ha, ha, be bold, be strong, ha,

ha, ha …"

The atmosphere began to grow dense with thunder.

"Ado!" Buta called, crying. " Ado! Ado!"

"Shut up!" Obene shouted ghastly. " You brainy idiot."

"Akpan! Akpan!"

" The same fool. You brainy idiot!"

The storm began again, longer and sadder.

The canoe began to be gorged with rainwater; Obene

began to thrust out the water from the canoe with his

bare hands, as there was no vessel in the canoe. His

effort was futile. The wind was winning its battle

against them, and the rainstorm was also winning its

own battle against them. They stopped battling the

elements and surrendered.

When the rainstorm filled the canoe with rainwater, the

canoe began to sink, and its occupants began to shout

and cry. The canoe continued to sink, and all of them

stood up and began to struggle. Even with all their

energetic and ferocious struggle, as fingers in chain,

they sank, deeply, away.

The rainstorm continued its strong fall, and the wind

echoed on and on. The darkness of the night waxed

stronger and stronger.

END