Short Story - Kadi's Pigeon
by Rosaline Nwagboso
My elder daughter, Ndidi, was screaming at her sister Kadi.
"You and your pigeons!" Ndidi was shouting at the top of her voice. "Just see what they have done to my painting books."
"That will teach you not to leave your painting book on the floor," retorted three year old Kadi.
There was an ominous pause. Then Ndidi said: "I am warning you Kadi. If I ever catch one of those pigeons..." She left the sentence hanging.
"Leave my pigeons alone. It's all your fault."
I sat up in bed and yawned. My husband, lying beside me, was curled up in the foetal position and was snoring as if his life depended on it, quite oblivious of the battle raging behind the door. Sighing quietly, I eased myself out of the double bed and padded across the bedroom to open the door. The two combatants were waiting for just that.
"Mum!" they both chorused
I plugged my ears with two fingers. But this did not prevent me from hearing what the two fighters were trying to say. Ndidi was rambling on about what Kadi's pigeon had done to her painting book, while Kadi herself was asking me in a high-pitched voice why there was no bread in the house for her pigeons.
"All right, all right" I said. "One at a time, but not here. This door happens to lead to a bedroom and not to Hyde Park."
And so off we went, with me leading the way to the kitchen, Ndidi next, followed by Kadi who was hotly pursued by the seven pigeons in question. We made quite a picture. I sat down at my usual presiding chair in the kitchen and declared the "court" open.
Ndidi started. "Mum," she said. "I was doing my painting and Kadi and her pigeons came in from the back door and her pigeons walked all over my book. Look, one of them dropped blood on it.
"Which one of the pigeons was that?" I asked
"It's this one." Kadi said and pointed at it. "It's not feeling well I think. But Mum, why is there no bread for my pigeons? They are hungry”
I looked at the pigeons scurrying all around Kadi's feet. It occurred to me, that I had seen one of the pigeons hopping about the day before, but I had not thought it was anything serious. I now looked at the poor pigeon's legs and saw that a black cotton thread which is used for hair plating had twisted tightly around both legs.
INJURY
"How did you get yourself into this then?" I said as I raised the pigeon on to the kitchen table. It was trembling and had a high temperature. The black cotton thread had gone very deep into one of the legs which was swollen and bleeding. The wound was so big that Mum?" the leg-bone was showing. As I studied the leg, the pigeon tilted its head to one side and looked at me.It all began one morning in May two weeks after we moved in. I was admiring my garden... the vegetables I had planted and the corn which were doing well. I was over the moon because I had not expected to do so well as a gardener. Then I noticed a few pigeons struggling over a piece of bread near the garden. I watched them from the kitchen window where I was until they finished the piece of bread; but instead of flying away they began to look towards the window where I was. I felt that they were not yet satisfied and needed more bread so I threw another piece of bread out to them. They set to it in earnest and I realised that I was right.
From that day on the pigeons never failed to visit and I kept throwing bread crumbs out for them. Then, one day, Kadi offered to feed them. That morning she took a whole loaf of fresh bread out to the garden and practically hand-fed all the pigeons. Thereafter the pigeons would line up on our roof top every morning with their eyes down. No matter how many times I came out to the garden, they would stay put up there with their eyes down. But the moment Kadi appeared, they I would all be down in no time at all, surrounding her and following her about until she had fed them all. Occasionally, when Kadi overslept, the pigeons would wait until someone opened the kitchen door. Then they would troop into the house cooing and searching for Kadi everywhere. Then Kadi would wake up, lead them out to the garden and feed them.
DETERMINATION
But this particular morning, as I examined the wounded pigeon's legs, it? They are hungry.' suddenly dawned on me that there was no bread in the house owing to a strike by bakers in our area. I was thinking of what to do when I observed Kadi looking away from the shivering pigeon on the table and resting her accusing eyes on me. After a while she looked again at the wounded pigeon and without taking her eyes off the poor thing began to speak."Mum," she said, "what are you going to do about it?" "About what, Kadi?"
"About my painting book, of course," piped Ndidi. Kadi shot an angry glance at Ndidi.
"Don't you two start up your quarrel again”, I said sternly.
"My pigeon is in pain," Kadi said. "What are you going to do about it, Mum?”
"I'm going to operate."
"Operate?" Asked Ndidi, amused.
"But this is not a hospital and you are not a doctor."
"Well," I said, "this is an emergency."
I searched quickly in the kitchen cabinet and found a slice of bread that somebody had abandoned in a corner. I gave this piece of bread to Kadi and asked her to feed the rest of the pigeons outside. As she led the six pigeons out, I put the kettle on and began to assemble gear for the operation. I looked at the poor pigeon. Its eyes were now half closed. It just stared helplessly at me and this made me more determined even though I was half scared to death at the prospect of removing the black thread that had cut through right to the bone of the pigeon's leg.
I rolled the sleeves of my night gown and was about to start the operation when Ndidi interrupted me.
"Mum," she said, "why don't you cover your mouth as doctors do on the telly?"
"No, dear, this is only a minor operation."
Only a minor operation but actually I felt as if I was going to perform open heart surgery and my hands trembled as I looked at the operating gear on the table a bottle of dettol, warm water in the basin, cotton wool, bandage and scissors.
"I thought you once said you didn't like anything to do with medicine because it was messy," Ndidi said. "Why are you doing this now?"
"Ndidi, this pigeon will die if I don't."
"My pigeon," corrected Kadi; I hadn't noticed her re-entry into the kitchen and looking down now I saw that the other six pigeons had re-entered as well.
"I am going to be a doctor when I grow up," Ndidi said.
"I feel sorry for all the sick people in the hospital."
"Mum feels sorry for my pigeon." replied Kadi. She then began to stroke the back of the wounded pigeon as if to reassure it.
CHEERS
I carefully laid the pigeon on its side to give me a better view of its legs. I cleaned the legs with cotton wool soaked in Dettol water. Then with the scissors, I carefully cut the thin thread that bound the two tiny feet together. After this came the difficult bit. Trying as carefully as possible, I began to disentangle the thread that had cut through the pigeon's skin to the bone four times. At last the thread was free and I cleaned the deep wound with disinfectant water. Finally I dabbed the wound with cotton wool soaked in TCP. The wounded pigeon tried out its freed legs but wobbled. It looked at me."It's all right," I told it. "It's all over now."
The operation had lasted about ten minutes. I looked at Kadi. She was speechless and looking at me in wonder. It was Kadi who held the pigeon while I bandaged its legs. Then as she released it, the pigeon began to limp about on the table. Ndidi and Kadi were so delighted, they cheered and clapped their hands.
Just then our door-bell rang. I answered and it was the bakery lady delivering two loaves of fresh bread. The strike, she told me, had ended. I shut the door and as soon as I entered the kitchen all the pigeons flocked round Kadi: all including the patient, which had recovered.
