=====MAD AGAIN (EPISODE 2)===== BY TACKLE YA OBSTACLE
=====MAD AGAIN (Episode 2)=====
In the last six months that you became mad,
again, your eyes have seen, your ears have heard,
but your mouth could not talk about them
because you have nobody to talk to, except
yourself. Most of the time you even try to talk to
people, they don't take you seriously because
they believe you are nothing but a madman
whose words and thoughts are different from
theirs. But, in the real sense, you know what you
saw. Right there at the three junctions where you
sleep, your eyes have seen different kinds of
people bring all forms of sacrifices to the
junction. Some came with beans cake and pap
cake mixed with palm oil. They render all sorts of
dialogue before dropping their sacrifices, but then,
you watch with close and rapt attention to see
who it was. Your eyes could not believe you the
very first time you saw a man bring sacrifice to
the three junctions. He was not just a man, he
was the pastor of a church down the road. You
know him so well because you pass his church
every Sunday while going for your begging
adventure. "Awooro (drawer of people)" The
pastor started. "Ero otun (crowd from the right),
Ero osi (crowd from the left), ema dagirigiri wa so
do mi (rush down to my place)" The pastor
added. His sacrifice was 4 slaughtered pigeons
whose heads faced the four cardinal points, while
their legs meet at the same place in the big
calabash. Pastor Kasali, as he was mostly called,
was one of the respected people in Gbaremu
town, and you could not believe he would be
engaged in such a fetish act.
Even as you looked at Pastor Kasali, the
memories of who you were before you became
mad, again rushed to you. You were a street boy
who depended mainly on picking pockets and
running little errands to make ends meet. Your
survival depended on how lucky you were with
the pockets you pick, if you were not caught. If
you were caught, your fate and life lies in the
hands on your captor, and you are always at their
mercy. You have been in the business of stealing
and picking pockets for about 3 years that you
and your parents were sent parking by the
landlord for not paying the much-accumulated
house rent. Like pieces of clothes, your father
distributed you and your siblings to stay with
different friends and families, most of which had
their own crosses to carry too, but, just that their
crosses were not as heavy as that of your father.
The few times you were caught picking pockets,
you were only saved by a little twist of events.
"Bring tire" Someone shouted from the crowd on
one of the occassions you were caught stealing.
The words were accompanied by a heavy punch
on your left jaw, and you felt like the world was
coming to an end. The kick was ushered down by
a fierce kick from someone putting on an Italian
shoe. It was just a matter of time before you felt
something across your neck, resting fully on your
small shoulders. It was a tire, and the next you
heard was, "bring petrol". You could see your life
coming to an end right before your own eyes. You
know that the next thing that would follow petrol
would be matches or lighter, and that would be
the beginning of your end. But, from nowhere, you
heard a strong muscular voice commanding
everybody to halt. At first, the voice was not
obeyed. "I say make una wait" The voice
repeated, very loudly. That voice was your saving
grace, and not only was it your saving grace, it
was the beginning of your journey to how you
became a madman.
(c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne
When you see a madman, what comes to your
mind? Do you see them as those that should be
extinguished from the society or as those that
should be cared and catered for? Has it ever
occupied to you that they are also someone's
brother, sister, father or even mother. A Yoruba
adage says, "it's interesting to watch a madman
display, but, it's hurting to have one as a child".
Prepare to experience the story that puts "you" in
that mad situation. I'll come your way again with
the next episode.
In the last six months that you became mad,
again, your eyes have seen, your ears have heard,
but your mouth could not talk about them
because you have nobody to talk to, except
yourself. Most of the time you even try to talk to
people, they don't take you seriously because
they believe you are nothing but a madman
whose words and thoughts are different from
theirs. But, in the real sense, you know what you
saw. Right there at the three junctions where you
sleep, your eyes have seen different kinds of
people bring all forms of sacrifices to the
junction. Some came with beans cake and pap
cake mixed with palm oil. They render all sorts of
dialogue before dropping their sacrifices, but then,
you watch with close and rapt attention to see
who it was. Your eyes could not believe you the
very first time you saw a man bring sacrifice to
the three junctions. He was not just a man, he
was the pastor of a church down the road. You
know him so well because you pass his church
every Sunday while going for your begging
adventure. "Awooro (drawer of people)" The
pastor started. "Ero otun (crowd from the right),
Ero osi (crowd from the left), ema dagirigiri wa so
do mi (rush down to my place)" The pastor
added. His sacrifice was 4 slaughtered pigeons
whose heads faced the four cardinal points, while
their legs meet at the same place in the big
calabash. Pastor Kasali, as he was mostly called,
was one of the respected people in Gbaremu
town, and you could not believe he would be
engaged in such a fetish act.
Even as you looked at Pastor Kasali, the
memories of who you were before you became
mad, again rushed to you. You were a street boy
who depended mainly on picking pockets and
running little errands to make ends meet. Your
survival depended on how lucky you were with
the pockets you pick, if you were not caught. If
you were caught, your fate and life lies in the
hands on your captor, and you are always at their
mercy. You have been in the business of stealing
and picking pockets for about 3 years that you
and your parents were sent parking by the
landlord for not paying the much-accumulated
house rent. Like pieces of clothes, your father
distributed you and your siblings to stay with
different friends and families, most of which had
their own crosses to carry too, but, just that their
crosses were not as heavy as that of your father.
The few times you were caught picking pockets,
you were only saved by a little twist of events.
"Bring tire" Someone shouted from the crowd on
one of the occassions you were caught stealing.
The words were accompanied by a heavy punch
on your left jaw, and you felt like the world was
coming to an end. The kick was ushered down by
a fierce kick from someone putting on an Italian
shoe. It was just a matter of time before you felt
something across your neck, resting fully on your
small shoulders. It was a tire, and the next you
heard was, "bring petrol". You could see your life
coming to an end right before your own eyes. You
know that the next thing that would follow petrol
would be matches or lighter, and that would be
the beginning of your end. But, from nowhere, you
heard a strong muscular voice commanding
everybody to halt. At first, the voice was not
obeyed. "I say make una wait" The voice
repeated, very loudly. That voice was your saving
grace, and not only was it your saving grace, it
was the beginning of your journey to how you
became a madman.
(c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne
When you see a madman, what comes to your
mind? Do you see them as those that should be
extinguished from the society or as those that
should be cared and catered for? Has it ever
occupied to you that they are also someone's
brother, sister, father or even mother. A Yoruba
adage says, "it's interesting to watch a madman
display, but, it's hurting to have one as a child".
Prepare to experience the story that puts "you" in
that mad situation. I'll come your way again with
the next episode.
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