A Short Story
The Loving Father's Wish
Solomon Ademola
It was a very ordinary farming village. The only time that anything happened was when quarrelsome couples or rivals exceeded their normal petty squabbles and were charged with disturbing public peace. Apart from mild social crimes the only tragic events that were handled at the police post were the occasional thefts and accidents during the rainy season.
The last of such an accident was some three years ago when, during a particularly fierce hurricane a falling tree had killed a schoolboy who was returning from the farm. The body and the piece of log were carried from the farm to the police station where the log and the corpse were detained for almost two days to the utter amazement of the villagers. The four policemen enjoyed remarkable respect in the village and even their personal idiosyncrasies were regarded as law. No one knows the reason why an inanimate thing like a piece of wood should be taken to the police station together with the dead victim.
The old man waited patiently for about two minutes behind the counter to find out if somebody would come out of the open door behind the desk. After standing there for sometime, he made a sound that was between clearing his throat and coughing. When there was no response he rapped the table with his walking stick which sent the flies buzzing all over the room.
A sleepy eyed policeman came out from the open door behind the counter. His eyes were bloodshot and he was sweating profusely inspite of the light singlet he wore on top of his black trousers. He came out stretch- ing himself while he pulled up his trousers with one hand. Noticing the cause of his disturbance he peered curiously at the oldman and said sleepily:
"Old man, what's your problem this afternoon? I hope you have not come with another land case. Instead of you people farming on your lands you always leave them and only start litigation when someone needy goes to farm on it." The old man looked at him pensively for some few minutes and said. "My son, you must sit down to listen to my story because what I have to say deserves more attention."
"Okay, old man tell me your troubles." The young officer retorted nonchalantly. It was apparent that he wanted to go back to his siesta. He looked at the old man who did not look a day younger than eighty. His face was wrinkled with age and the new hair that was beginning to grow on his cleanly shaved head was grey without a trace of black. There was not a single tooth in his mouth but he had bright eyes in a determined face.
"My son, don't take me to be a mad man because what I am going to tell you is very important to me. Nobody else knows about it but I have decided to set your records straight and also clear my conscience before I join my ancestors", he paused, "I killed my father."
"What? You killed your father or your son?" the young policeman asked, laughing. Disbelief was written all over his face.
"My father, the man who brought me into this world," the old man said, bowing down his head.
"Old man, I have told you that we have no time for such tales. Tell me when and how you killed your father." said the policeman. He could not hide his impatience at the old man whom he had mentally now classified as eccentric. The old man was shrewd; the sarcasm in the police man's voice was not lost on him. His handling of the case conveyed the youngman's thoughts. "Papa, do you really mean that you have killed somebody? How is it then that nobody heard about it?"
"My son, you have no idea the agony I have been through all these years. I can't even recount the number of times I have walked to the doors of this same police station but had lost courage and gone back with my burden. It was so very long ago but it seems only yesterday. Oh my poor, poor father."
"Eh, old man so you are telling the truth and not some kind of sick joke," the policeman cut in.
"No, my son, I wish I were joking". he said, shaking his head sadly. "You see, it was purely an accident. It happened so quickly that by the time I recovered from the shock of the incident there was nothing to be done but to keep quiet for the dust to settle."
"I was then a very naive young man, innocent in the ways of the world. I was the youngest of my father's children and very close to his heart. I can recall my father's friends remarking on the striking likeness I bore to him and he would answer them: 'Yes, this is my beloved son and I have high hopes for him."
"My father was a wealthy farmer as well as a very excellent hunter. He was respected by the whole community. Though he was very kind to both his immediate as well as distant relatives, there were still quarrels between the sons and nephews about who would succeed him on his death. My father went with me during his hunting expeditions and gradually I learnt the art and became a crack shot.
However on that fateful night it was drizzling when my father said to me: "Eke, there is a large boar around my new farm. It has been destroying my new plantain shoots. Tonight as it is raining it will be easy to approach it without being heard. The footprints indicate a rather large animal so it must be shot at close range."
"Yes father, I have also noticed the destruction but I thought it was caused by either monkeys or grasscutters,' I remarked.
No son, grasscutters and monkeys have their own way of destroying food items; the boar breaks them into big chunks, my father explained.
We had been staying alone in a hut in the middle of the forest for a week. This was quite normal during the farming season. Spending several weeks in the forest allowed farmers to start work early before the hot sun rises".
The policeman who appeared to have now accepted the authenticity of the oldman's story raised his hand and said.
"Old man let me get a statement sheet because your story appears to be very interesting". "Oh don't worry about a statement, there are records on this case in this very office. I am sure you can find them. You have no idea how many times I and all the people who had anything to do with my father were questioned in this office. In those days the Inspector was a whiteman who used to come here every six months from the city." the old man said.
"But if you were questioned why did you not confess then?" the policeman demanded flaring up again.
"I couldn't then because my father said I should not and I could not defy a dead man's wishes," the old man explained.
"Anyway, just let me take a fresh statement and I will find the records and update this murder case. So you go on and give your statement." the policeman said while pulling drawers in search of pen and charge sheets.
"My son don't get me wrong I am not a murderer it was purely an accident" the oldman corrected him, tapping the cement floor with his stick for emphasis.
"That is for the court to decide, you continue with your story." the policeman said.
"Then to continue where I left off, my father and I went into the forest to kill the wild boar; he posted me behind the buttress of a big silk cotton tree while he went into the thicket to lure the animal out. Within a short time after he had gone the bushes exactly opposite the direction he went started shaking violently and I saw the two bright eyes of the animal reflected in the light of my hunting lamp. I raised my gun and fired and instead of the dying gruntings of a boar my father cried out:
'Eke my son, you've shot me!' I immediately dropped the gun and run towards him. I cried like a baby when I saw what I had done. The shot had wounded him fatally in the chest but he was not dead. I lifted him on to my shoulder and carried him. Halfway home he said:
'My son, put me down and listen carefully to what I am going to tell you.’
'Father, please don't die... I am alone here in the middle of the thick forest. I never saw you, I thought I saw the boar'. I shook with uncontrollable fear and grief.
'I know my son, I have been told by the Obiagare fetish but I didn't know that this terrible incident would be your burden. It isn't your fault but be a man and do exactly what I tell you. Right now, I am going to die. Be brave and bury me inside my own bedroom in the hut and put the bedding over the grave. Go home and tell the family that I went hunting and never came back."
'But father I can't do that. What about the rites that should be done for a man like you? What about a coffin? Oh no, father I can't'. I cried with all my heart, wiping off the blood that flowed profusely.
'Eke, my son, be brave and listen because I have a very short time to live and if you don't it would be too late,' my father said his voice had by then reduced to a whisper.
Inspite of all that the dying man said I was still determined to carry him home but by the time we reached the hut he was very heavy and the moaning was very faint. I put him on the ground in the room, peered into his face and felt his pulse to see if he was still alive.
The pupils of his eyes were all white and the facial muscles were relaxing. However when I called him he opened his eyes and responded. He lifted his right hand and pointed to the place where he wanted to be buried and said very weakly 'there, my son give me water to drink... remember always to give me water to drink.'
I rushed to get the water but when I came back he was dead. I still opened his mouth and poured it in. I sat by the body immobilised by shock. I couldn't figure out how I would act when I return home to tell such a story. By dawn, I had made up my mind to obey the dying man's instructions. That is how it came about that the mystery was never solved." The old man concluded his story overcome with emotions. The young policeman who had been gaping at him for sometime also took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead and eyes at the sametime trying to hide his emotions. He looked with renewed interest at the fragile octagenarian and said.
"Why do you have to tell me at this time? the case would have been forgotten if you had let sleeping dogs lie." "You see my son, I am also a dying man. I have fulfilled my father's wish till today. I always went to the hut and poured libation with water for him but my only son who could have done it while I am gone is a doctor in Germany and I don't want to die with the burden on my conscience so since the police were so keen on it I thought I should tell them all about it." he said.
"Okay, old man you may go home now and if you are wanted we will send for you”.
The policeman looked up at the records but could not trace any file. When the superior officer came, a report was made to him. After listening carefully to the whole story he said to the young officer.
"Look, constable, there are certain times I wonder what you're doing in the service. Can't you see that the old man is suffering from senile dementia?"
"What's that again, Sir?"
"Never mind. At that age they say all sorts of things to get attention. Everybody in this town knows that the father he claims to have killed was eaten by a wild boar and the bones were collected and buried a very long time ago.
The young police officer quietly took the statement sheet and tore it up.
