The deadly shortcut - The Touching Tale of a Single Mother & her Three Children

Although it was very true, She never bragged to anyone about her husband being a Policeman. Maybe in some climes it could earn a wife respect, or help protect the children from bad men, however over here in this semi-thicket of a residential area, no one really cared. In fact a silly divultion of such an information, would lead to instant hatred by the horde of small hard core gangs, who occupied the forested scenery and numerous abandoned buildings in the area.

The small Family of Five had been ejected by a previous Landlord, a man who had been serially accused of being a member of a cult and also a ritualist. Anyone who questioned the rationale behind such grievous rumours against the Landlord would be told that, that was the only feasible reason to explain his disinterest in completing the construction of the House. It was a widely held belief that the members of some certain secret cults like the Ogboni, as part of their initiation rites were required never to fully complete the construction of any of their buildings. At least one or two things should be left out while erecting a building, no matter the size of such an edifice.

Some members decided to fully complete the structural construction of the building, then leave it unpainted, while others may fully construct and paint parts of the building, and abandon some other parts half way into construction. The favourite trend was usually to quit the last storey of a multi-storey building midway into its construction.

In our own case, the Landlord had fully constructed the building, but never painted the house or any of its parts, neither did he approve for anyone to paint their rented flats. However we had little to fear, since the Landlord was a scarce man. He was reputed to be residing somewhere in far away Lagos and he only visited Imo state twice every year, however he visited the tenants of this his uncompleted edifice, just once in a year. Prior to any of his visits, the Care-taker would have notified all the tenants who would consequently abandon whatever they were scheduled to do that day and wait for the Landlord to come around.

During his visits, everyone, both young and old would Marshall out into the open yard to be inspected by the Landlord. He seemed to relish every bit of this respect accorded him, although he usually hid his vain-ness behind a very fine cloak of comedy and a repertoire of boring jokes. Before he finally left, he would have pointed out all the dents and dirty in his compound which we had always overlooked. Usually, his visit ended in less than an hour and we all would go back to our daily routines.

One faithful Saturday, the Caretaker called all the adults for a meeting at his quaters. From the the rumours that had be going round for something before then, i knew that this meeting was a very important one, so after the last invitee had made his entrance into the venue, i quickly made myself inconspicuously positioned behind the door curtain. Therefore unlike the other children who were shocked by the news of the outcome of the meeting, i was not.

"The Landlord has sold this house" boomed the voice of the Caretaker, "and he is serving everyone a three months quit notice, after which anyone still found on this property would be forcefully ejected"

Within a month, Mum with the aid of assistance from some of our church members was able to secure another accommodation in a very remote area of town. This area was marked by tall bushes, abandoned warehouses and sparsely located buildings and population.

Our new Landlord was a huge man named Steven. His good manners and politeness ended on the same day he collected the lump sum of a two years rent from us. Immediately after we paid the rent, he began to hound us like a predator does its prey. 

One time, he even climbed the roof of the house just after midnight and woke us with his loud bangs, Mum and I, thought it were armed robbers trying to get in from the roof, so She burst into fervent prayers and i, into tears. Later that morning, when Mum accosted Mr Steven about the noise last night, he laughed and asked if we were scared. Then he owned up to being the culprit, claiming that he had to re-roof a portion of the leaking roof.

The most scary feature of our new residence was not just an absence of neighbours and the presence of tall bushes around it, the most scary thing about it were the roads which led to it. 

Since this part of town was yet grossly underdeveloped, there were no elaborate roads leading here, all we had were tiny bush parts which were easily overgrown by grasses due to the few number of people threading the path. 

Walking through these deserted paths, by day would scare any grownup man, but at night, it was a real cause for shiver. In that thick, enveloping darkness, the only sounds one would ear were that of his footsteps and those of crickets and frogs.

One particular night, while returning from Church late in the evening, around 9:00pm to be precise, Mum, my two Sisters and I were carefully and fearfully walking through one of these bush paths when we heard a whistle on one side of the bush, then as if that was not enough, the whistle was replied by someone on the other side of the thicket. 

Mum hushly cautioned us to stop whistling, but alas, at Nine years old, i did not even know how to whistle, neither could my youngest sister who was barely three. The only one who could whistle with her lips was my sister aged seven, and in fact, the fear of kidnappers and ritualists, would never let her breath loudly, not to talk of whistling out loud into the eerie night.

When Mum realised that none of us was the culprit, She began to plead the Blood of Jesus, and instructed us to do the same. In my young mind, i was very overjoyed to scream the blood of Jesus, if that was all it would take to deliver us from the hands of the evil lurking in the surrounding bushes. Mutters of "The blood of Jesus!" pierced the thick silence of the night as we practically broke into a run.

The Bush paths were not wide enough to contain two people walking side by side, therefore we had to file in a single line. When i turned back to check on my sister, she was no where to be found. We had lost her to the whistling Evil.

When we got home that night, I thought at lenght about Dad and his stupid job. I knew that if the government had not transferred him to far-away Lagos, he would have been here to protect his young Family. I slept off with this thought throbbing in my mind, while Mum's muffled sobs, mingled with the touching prayers that she made, were the only sound that could be heard throughout that night.

Written by Onyeoziri Favour
www.Favour-onye.blogspot.com