In the Calabash


Once in the land of Ayenula, there was a poor farmer known as Akaraogun the great.
He lived with his family on the outskirts of the village.
Though he was striving hard to make huge produce, his land was becoming smaller year in and year out due to the hungry erosion at the end of it.
Each harvest, his wife always assisted him with the sale of his produce: but this time, she was some couple of days before giving birth to a baby.

To meet up with family expectations, he harvested from a neighbour’s farm based on an earlier agreement as well as from his which was of cause the entire.
He perhaps wanted to surprise his wife and help the family in all ways.
“It would be a disaster if I peradventure return home to my family with nothing.
It is impossible!” He assured himself.
He knew he had to go the extra mile in this quest if he eventually wants to succeed.
Akaraogun who had knowledge concerning the nature of his own village, travelled far away to other villages to meet up with the best deal.
He travelled from place to place seeking hope in the greener sides of the whole community.
He was lucky when he got to Aletu village.
 There, he was able to sell everything to merchants miraculously.
Likewise, he was rewarded with an additional amount as a gift for his expectant wife and his unborn baby.
He could not believe his eyes, a man who has been pushing his chart for some tiring hours, received a blessing from a complete stranger.
His sweat amazingly dried up on his face as soon as he received the huge amount.
He was extremely glad at the success of this great deal, that he kept saying thank you time without number to the merchants as they walked away.

If the first act is foolish, the second can’t be wise; so, we shouldn’t be expecting a wise result.
Akaraogun instead of heading home to his family decided to take a look at the village for a while, to check out for something amusing.
While he was exploring the beautiful landscape and the natural green environment, his eyes were trapped at the joint of a palm wine seller.
He quickly turned his face in the opposite direction, but the image captured in his memory gradually returned to his face back.
With watery lips, he sluggishly walked towards the joint: just like a donkey being dragged away from his hay while it was still in abundance.
At the joint, he requested the smallest calabash, which he was granted.
As he took a sip, the taste drove a remarkable slight cold down his bone marrow, forcing an electric vibration down his entire body system.
“This is wonderful!” He commended the wine peddler.

Minutes went on into another, but the time stood still before Akaraogun.
Before he could believe his eyes, the tables were filled with an empty bigger calabash of palm wine.
For a while, he kept smiling at the air for he wasn’t sure of what just happened to his reasoning, not until that moment.
He tried raising himself from his stool, but gravitational pull ordered him back to take a seat.
He smiled again, but this time at his stupidity; he perhaps thought that it was destiny that made him tarry there.
For thirty unutilized minutes, he kept struggling.
He was hoping to discover a way out of the magnetic chair.
He couldn’t all the while, but still didn’t give up.
When there is energy in a man, the foolish ones use theirs in meaningless gossip.
He was ensnared by the temporal excitement of the sugary palm wine that he began running his mouth like a busy river desperate to meet with the Pacific Ocean.
He didn’t know when he leaked out what was supposed to be a secret- his money of cause. And this without any doubt is a golden moment for the gangsters at the joint.
About an hour later, when his mouth became weak, and the effect of the wine has relieved his cracked face, he stood up staggering slightly and went straight to pay up his bill.
Then, he noticed some funny looks on the faces of some people around him.
He wondered what was going on with them, for they look so anxious and confused.
That didn’t bother him, he had a piece of good news to share at home.

On his way home, after trekking for a while towing his chart, he decided to ease himself.
As he parked his chart, he noticed that he was being followed all the while.
He paused for a while to check out their reaction but noticed that they were heading the same way all the while.
He knew the repercussion of slacking at this moment.
He needs to run for his dear money.
“These guys are not smiling.” He assured himself.
He retrieved his bag containing his money from the chart, held it so tight to his chest and ran as fast as he could.
The tyrosine in the wine retarded gradually and his heels began to show signs of tiredness some few kilometres away.
The road had become lonely.
To worsen the matter, a very dark light has taken over the face of the path, causing the crickets to chirp aloud.
It is too late to cry when the head is cut off.
For making the gangsters run an ill race, he was beaten so close to the gate of heaven like a snake that mustn’t be eaten.

So awful for Akaraogun.
This was a day he will live to remember, no doubt about that.
The planting, watering, weeding, harvesting and sales of his farm produce, alongside family expectations ended up in the palm of those bandits.

He learnt a lesson, which I am sure he found right in the calabash.

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Olusola Butler

I write a lot, on everything and anything. I am that ordinary guy with a whole lot of good to offer. I love art, music and poetry.

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