“Wake up Wake up, someone just jumped into the compound” Ikenna whispered as he tapped me. I was too weak to stand up, that day had been very hectic for me; from the farm to the market, then cleaning and running errands. It’s the 23rd day of December; my father always hosted his age grade meeting on Christmas Eve, our 22nd to 27th December were always spent in the village.
“Binie, mmadu no n’azu uno”, he translated in igbo, this time hitting me harder, I woke up and ran to the door unconsciously, muttering “onye, onye?”, my heart beat increased its speed with the beads of sweat on my forehead. I was always like that anytime I was woken up from a deep sleep, Ikenna who already knew what I will do, ran after me and grabbed my hand.
“Brother, jide onwe gi aka [hold yourself]”, he said, “someone just jumped into the compound”. He pointed towards the back of the house where he heard the person jump down from the fence. By then I was already calm and fully awake. I looked at the time; it was 10:12pm. What an early time to break into someone’s house.
“What do we do?”
“I think we should call daddy” he answered.
Our house in the village is an old family house with most of the rooms built independently; there is a small square shaped space at the centre of the building with ten rooms surrounding it, our room was close to the back gate. We have three entrances to the compound; one is through the back gate which is between our room and the kitchen, another one is through the passage close to the general sitting room, and then the last one is through the general sitting room. My father’s room is close to the general sitting room, it also has a linking door to the passage. At the passage is another room opposite the door to my father’s room, that room is my father’s private sitting room, where he entertains his special guests and holds his meetings.
“Call daddy?”
“Must you call daddy in everything? We are men, so we must act like men”. I have always wanted to prove that I am not the weak man people take me for, this was my moment and I needed to seize it. I reached for the cutlass under my bed. “Ssshhhh, be a man” I silenced him with authority.
He gave me the are-you-sure-you-can-handle-this? look, but I ignored him; he is just a fourteen years old child. I may have done worse four years back, when I was his age.
Ikenna is uncle Uche’s son but I am closer to Ikenna than any of my four siblings, maybe because we shared the same room. He has been living with us for eight years since the death of his father, his mother died when he was 3; he is the only child of his mother. When he was 5 years old, his father remarried. His step mum eventually gave birth to two children before his father died, and rumour had it that his step mum had a hand in the death of his father. Ikenna is tall, light skinned and slim, his fingers were as long as he is, and sometimes I wished I had his kind of body stature. He had a way of getting along with everyone even though he was the shy type outside and a talkative inside the house. His shy and smiling habit attracted people to him, I don’t know why. All the girls in Excel high school craved his attention. He talked a bit fast like he escaped stammering. He was also kind hearted and always willing to sacrifice to see someone happy.
Ikenna tried to pull me back, “Don’t go outside, it’s risky, even if you won’t call daddy, call brother Udo or brother Amuzie”
Udo and Amuzie are my elder brothers; Udo is two years older than Amuzie who is three years older than I am. Uloaku was born same year with Ikenna. I could remember my mother in labour on our way back from Ikenna’s naming ceremony, eight days after his birth. The birth of Uloaku brought joy to my mum who had prayed seriously for a female child.
“I am a boy scout” I said with pride, “we were thought to be prepared at all times”.
I gently opened the door, it was dark outside, the thick black compound gave me goose bumps, all of a sudden my feet started shaking, everyone had gone to bed and there was this grave silence. I could hear myself argue with my spirit on the probability of how I was going to handle this well. I turned to Ikenna and ordered him to take off the white polo he was wearing so that we would not be tracked by our enemies.
“Lie low in a 227 formation”
“Brother which one is 227 formation again?” Ikenna asked dumbfounded
“That’s the term we use in boys scout, from now on you are sergeant Ikenna; Sergeant!” I called softly but there was no reply. I turned to him but the human being was confusingly looking at me “When I say sergeant, you reply, in order sir” I ordered Ikenna. “Sergeant!”
“In order Sir” Ikenna replied with a shaky voice, he was almost losing his voice to fear, I was scared too but I did not want to show it. Something was pushing me to continue, I didn’t know what that was, but whatever it was, I was enjoying the feeling.
We tip toed to the back of the house but no one was there, I was forcing myself to be brave.
“Follow me”, I whispered to Ikenna with a wave. I took the lead while he followed me, we walked round the compound but there was no one.
“Are you sure you heard a sound?” I queried.
“Yes I am sure”
“But we have walked round the compound and seen no one”, I emphasized.
“I am sure I heard someone jump down” Ikenna argued.
“It was just your imagination”, I said carelessly.
“Who said? Am I not old enough to know the sound of a jump?” he protested.
“It’s alright, let’s go into the room, maybe I will have to call daddy” I said just to end the argument. We walked silently to the room, but the door was locked.
“Ike, key kwanu?” I asked.
“The door is open” Ikenna said in shock.
“But it’s locked” I said in horror trying to force the door open.
Suddenly I felt a strong grip me from behind. As I tried to struggle for freedom, the attacker covered my mouth with a white handkerchief, I choked and gasped for breathe for few minutes, and there was blackout.
COMING NEXT
“Obele” one of the men shouted “How you dey feel?” he said walking towards me. I looked at the four men, fear written all over me, the right hand tattooed guy was not with them. “Obele, the warrior” the man said mockingly as the other three laughed boisterously to support the joke. “You go drink?” he asked, bringing out an old whiskey bottle, and glass cups from a cupboard which I did not notice had been there, they filled their glasses and drank merrily.
“We forgot to make a toast Oga Yaro”, said one of the guys; he seemed to be the…
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