A STORY BY MR DO SOMETHING
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED FOR THE REAL AUTHOR.
Standing with blood dripping from the knife in my
hand, what remained of well tailored shirt by
lagos designer adaz, was a torn shirt drenched in
blood and the back of my shirt fully torn wide
open, my body battered from all sides, i could
never believe that i could be a murderer, am that
kind of kid in the strata of our social like you will
call an “ajebutter”, a kid who had all he ever
wanted, our cook would bring the menu for the
day and i’ll select the food that best soothes my
taste buds, but here i was dead hungry and
looking pale, if not for the fruits from this forest,
my carcass would been eating up long ago by the
scary look birds and wild animals in this forest.
Barclays British high, located in the highbrow area
of banana island in lagos, it was a school of class
and grandeur, we had british men and women as
teachers and most of my classmates are britons
or the very rich and influential people in the
society, my close pals in our SS3 class were
rajeev an indian national, Kunle the son of an Oba,
Stacy the daughter of the owner of the school, i
and stacy were high school lovers and she meant
everything to me, the four of us did virtually
everything together and weekends we attend
parties and get high.
Our geography teacher david hamilton had
organised an excursion for the whole class, 21st
of january 2004, we were going to see what a real
mangroove forest looks like, we were all excited
because outings like this tends to help us bond
and have a great time outside the school
curriculum, we boarded the long bus thats fully
air-conditioned and stacked with food stuffs and
camping equipments, it was a two days camp
trip, and bayo the son to a pastor of one of these
new generation churhes stood to lead the prayers
in yankee accent.
Bayo: Lord we besiege thee to guide us through
this long journey, let you hand tend to be the map
and compass of our trip, lord…
He was cut short by our teacher, he hates
prolonged prayers, “make is short, God is not
dumb” so he always said and he said
David Hamilton: Blah blah blah, and amen, told
you to always make your prayers short
And the whole students in the bus chorused “God
is not dumb” as we all laughed and the driver
zoomed off to isoka mangroove forest in ibadan,
barely 3 hours we arrived at isoka village, a small
community that barely knows about what the
modern world was all about, mud and thatch
house were prevalent thier but it was scattered at
different corner of the community, our first stop
was the palace of the king Oba adetutu IV, the
igbinibi of isoka kingdom, we all came out of our
bus, postrated as we walked into his old looking
place, goat skin were placed everywhere on the
floor and we were told by the king’s servant, a
heavy built man whose chest was puffed out like
a balloon, he body odour was the most
recognisable thing about him, his ooze of sweat
was so strong like the stench from the gutters in
ajegunle.
The king took pictures with us, accepted our gifts
and then spoke some words to his blind chief
translator who only looks up while talking,
nodding his head like an agama lizard, he amused
us with his style that i could see all my
classmates giggling and smiling.
Translator: Greeting from the king, the king is
very happy to welcome this august visitors in his
midst today and really appreciates that of all
communities in ibadan, you choose his
coimmunity to be the place of your visit.
David Hamilton: wah a great pleasure your
majesty, we really happy to be here too
Translator: But the king a little problem with your
visit, your timing isn’t right, we are have the
ekurodo festival, its a festival of sacrifice to
appease the gods for the wrongs we have done
David Hamilton: {frowns Face} Bullshit! seriously?
The translator turned towards the king an spoke
in thier local dialect and the king replied also to
him in harsh tone, looking at our teacher and was
fuming
Translator: No one goes into the Isoka forest for
nine days until after our rituals are done.
David Hamilton: Oh what a salvaged custom,
barbaric and very redundant people, i don’t
believe that people still believe in this voodoo
crap!
The translator turned this time the king again,
knelt down spoke in his local dialect and the king
stood up in anger, shouting loud in local dialect
as saliva could be flying out his mouth as he kept
shouting, and he then gave his guards a sign,
and fear gripped us all, the odour drenched guard
ran out and came back almost as immediately
with a bowl of water in a white basin, he was
washing his hand as he talked to his translator
and the translator turned towards us!
Translator: The king is washing his hands off
this, if you insist you want to enter the forest, not
even one person would stop you but be it known
that whatever you see is your own cross.
Our teacher turned and left the palace in a angry
state and we joined him as we gathered at the
entrance of the bus to leave, our teacher turned
and said
David Hamilton: We are going into the forest, we
will prove these guys wrong, we will show them
that they live in the dark age.
We all shook our head in agreement as we
boarded the bus and the driver drove toward the
forest, kunle sitting beside me began to cry, i
turned to inquire why the sudden mood change!
Kunle:{crying as he spoke} the king kept saying
about leopard in the forest, i could understand
thier language a little.
That was when fear engulfed my being
{To be continued}
