The life of the dead is placed in the memory of the living – Marcus Tullius Cicero
***
Outside in the heavy downpour, the village of Isiohor stood forlorn as they mourned the passing of one of their own. Their grievance was complete, and their lamentations which the heavy downpour failed to muffle, could be heard from a mile and beyond. Their countenance, which the gloom failed to becloud, insinuated that the world as they’d first perceived it had quite suddenly become alien to them all. They were all devastated, but only Ahigbe felt the icy stroke of guilt clawing at his heart. Only Ahigbe could taste the bitter sorrow the cycle of life and death had bestowed upon them. Only he had been coerced into confronting the stark futility of living a life of happiness. Only he had been made to dwell on the grave consequences his cavalier approach to life.
***
The chain of unpalatable circumstances which led to this untimely demise could be traced back to the previous morning when a father had descended on his son. The poor boy had incurred the legendry wrath of his father, because he’d failed to lock the entrance to the goat pen the night before. His father’s fury had been complete, and the resolve to teach his lazy son a lesson, had been absolute. Eventually, it had taken the intervention of everyone in Ahigbe’s homestead before he could be subdued and calmed. By then, his son who was almost naked save for a short was severely bruised and weeping.
Also, weeping profusely was his wife, who’d been appealing to him to observe equanimity because of his weak heart. But in response, he’d spewed a whole litany of vilifications her way, before he shifted his focus back on the boy, who he then threatened to cripple if he didn’t bring back the goat that had run off. With that threat ringing at the back of his mind, Ahigbe’s son got up and ran out of the compound as thought the minions from hell were giving chase. After his son had run off, the apoplectic Ahigbe stalked towards his hut, to be left alone with his thoughts.
Ahigbe the indestructible was a man of integrity; he was a man feared by all. He was also renowned for his fiery temper, as well as his kind and sharing heart. He was a man who didn’t care much about the loss of a mere goat, for he was a wealthy and much respected man in the village. What had seriously irked him was that, this wasn’t the first time his lazy son had allowed his goats to wander off. This wasn’t the first time his son had failed and disappointed, when entrusted with the simplest of tasks. All Ahigbe wanted was for his son to have a sense of responsibility. All he wanted was for his boy to become a man.
For a time, he sat in his hut wondering how he could make his son a better person. The boy was his legacy and it was because of that, he was named for him. He was his only son, one who would carry on his family name for years to come, and he’ll be damned if he didn’t teach him some sense before he joined his ancestors. He was still lost in thought, when a loud ruckus outside his hut interrupted his musing. When he stepped out to angrily confront those who were the source of the disturbance, he was met with the gravest of news.
‘His son had been involved in a ghastly accident’!
Immediately the bad tidings assaulted his ears, Ahigbe’s sight blurred, and his leg turned wobbly. When he tried to take a step, he stumbled and it was only the quick intervention of people around that prevented him from kissing the dirt. All of a sudden, he longed for the sight of his lazy son. All of a sudden, he wished he’d been a little more patient with him.
All that could be told was that Ahigbe’s son, who’d frantically, ran past a neighbour heading to the market, had been hit by a trailer as he attempted to cross the road. Even though the neighbour hadn’t witnessed the accident, she’d been able to identify his unrecognizable and mangled remains a few minutes later when she got to the scene of the accident. Apparently, he’d been hit and dragged for some hundreds of meters before the driver, who’d probably had one too many realized his atrocity.When his son’s body or what was left of it, was finally brought back to his homestead, Ahigbe wept bitterly. He’d been overwhelmed with grief, guilt and an absolute terror, for in their custom, it was a taboo for a son to die by the hands of a father. Though, his son may not have directly died by his hands, he’d surely driven him to his untimely death, and Ahigbe knew his spirit would surely seek revenge. He knew his impending doom was unassailable, and only the rite of appeasement could rectify his mistake. So he sent words to the village priest, who in turn began to make the necessary arrangements for the rite.
Custom demanded that his son’s body be buried after the rite of appeasement had been performed. And as part of the rite, Ahigbe had to be confined in his hut, lest his son’s rampaging spirit sought vengeance before it could be pacified. Soon Ahigbe’s homestead was a beehive of activities as preparations for the burial reached its climax. At one section of his homestead, a grave was being dug by the able bodied boys in the village. In another section, the fattest cows and goats from his stock were being slaughtered, while the freshest palm wines were being brought in and stocked under the cool shade of Kola nut tree. By nightfall, all criteria’s for the preparations had been met, people started trooping in and gradually, the crowd grew in capacity.
An hour before midnight, the village priest finally made his appearance. But first, he marched straight to Ahigbe’s hut, and told him to rid himself of all clothing. Once stripped, the priest applied a black and smelly ointment all over his body, while he recited some protective incantation. When he was done, he told Ahigbe that the ointment and incantation were to ward off the rampaging and vengeful spirit of his son. Finally, he warned that even though the room maybe warded from outside influences, under no condition should he step out till the first cock crow.With that explicitly spoken admonition, the priest left to fulfil the requirements of the rite. First, a white he-goat that had never seeded a kid was offered as sacrifice, before the chanting and invoking commenced. Soon, everybody joined as voices could be heard praying and crying. For hours, the spirit of Ahigbe’s son was appeased with offerings and prayers. For hours it continued, and soon, the tired and aggrieved Ahigbe stumbled into a troubled slumber.
***
After a time, Ahigbe suddenly woke up from his troubled slumber to be greeted by a menacing and deafening silence. He wondered where everyone was. He wondered why they’d stopped their chanting and prayers. After listening for what seemed like an eternity, he finally summed up courage, and went outside. Outside his hut, he was beheld by a sight beyond his comprehension. Under the bright moonlight, he saw that his homestead had been hurriedly deserted in a state of agitation. The air stank of terror and soon, Ahigbe’s heart began to beat hard. His homestead was littered with upturned stools, hurriedly thrown cups, forgotten slippers and the motionless body of the village priest. But before he could check if he was alive, something out of the shadows sauntered towards him.
Ahigbe face became white as death, for he couldn’t believe what beheld his eyes. He was gripped by an indefinable terror as he stood staring at the apparition, and it’s strange companion. His head swelled till it almost imploded, cold sweat broke out from his head and his bowels failed him. Then a spasm, the likes never seen before, overcame him before he fell to the floor clutching his weak heart.
Standing terrified and bewildered before his dying father’s body, was his ‘supposedly’ dead son and the goat that had wandered off earlier.
***
My Dark School Of Thoughts 
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