Consuming lives was the attribute of the innocent water that lies quietly in the middle of the sparsely dotted settlements. It has gained fame beyond the boundaries of Tamani. Young folks of nearby villages occasionally visit it. It had generous visitation because it was situated in the periphery of Tamani. It provided no guidelines and restrictions on the swelling numbers mainly boys that came for the pleasantries it offers for free. Humans by nature like freedom of life – unrestrained will power to do what one desires, sometimes completely ignorant of what our actions are at stake for us. True freedom was at the shore of our new found friend, the water. It has neither owner nor caretaker. Hence, there were no laws defining time and period of accessing it. There were some days we will leave our homes for it at cock’s crow and return when we could no longer see the reflection of the sun in the water. When the moon was roundly bright and shows its glistening dominance over darkness, we could stay with it as long as our bellies were full. My friends and I had nothing to lose for overstaying and jollying with it. However, my loss for staying late into the night in the water was going home to meet a chilly cold food. Sometimes I will meet no food when bowls for serving food are washed early by Lasira. She was a family relation who came to stay with us. Often, she will wash the bowls so early as a way of punishing me for a quarrel or fight we have had. But her wickedness of making me to sleep on empty stomach was not a deterrent. It was more rewarding and fulfilling to have enough fun time in the water and go hungry for a night. Occasionally, my tummy will ouch woefully in the darkest last of the night. Sometime in childhood, we were told tales of how some water bodies were very unfriendly and possessed. Tales of their ravenous fury in gulping human lives were told to every adventurous young boy in every household. But this water of ours was not in the scriptures of the greyed ones who have lived several decades to witness, hear and learn the harrowing stories of some water bodies. “Never underestimate the power of water, no matter how small it is. It can kill you”, I reminisced my father’s caution when I was little. As a matter of fact, it was a common warning to all exuberant young boys who were growing up in a community laden with water bodies. Activities that took place by the water were at the blind side of the larger society living in the middle of a vast stretch of land demarcating Tamani. It was not an old water that predates our birth. It was a creation of contemporary activities of man’s attempt to provide a shelter for himself and his unplanned family. The old folks have no myths and cooked stories about it to scare us away from it. It was torn between stagnant water and a pond - strictly, more of the former than the latter. Precisely, it was resting harmlessly far north of a new settlement named Jisonayili right in the mouth of the catapult stick road. The road in bird’s view, on top a tree, was like a catapult stick. The handle could be likened to moving away from the heart of Tamani to the thick bushes that harbour the wild. The branched paths to the left of west lead the way to Kumbungu and to the right of north, Savelugu. The pond was nudged between these paths that leads to villages that were like cat and dog. The enmity between the two villages could be effortlessly expressed by the symbolism of the two paths which zigzag and diverge into the wilderness. The pond was called Abetei, the pond for the living and the dead. Its fame roars familiarly among youngsters of all surrounding communities. The tales of Abetei were neither myth nor white lie told the youth by the aged. The youth by touch of what the aged described as touch of bad spirits were experimental of the tales told them. One intersecting and hair-lifting story about the pond was it being used to bath dead bodies. A dreaded experience several youth came across with vivid testimonies to relay to friends. One day, whiles my friends and I were swimming in the pond, we saw chain of well-built men carrying a log of a corpse shrouded in a white calico on their shoulders. Sibidoo, the youngest among us cried frightfully. His wolfish shrill voice scared every being under the thick woodlots. I…. (Please, sorry I can’t continue the story. It is quite voluminous but I promise to share it with you later. I am trying to write a book. And I want you to assess this half chapter of it for me. Please help me with these questions. You can respond to any, one or more questions) 1. Does the setting/plot of the story depict pastoral (rural) life? 2. Is the diction suitable for JHS or SHS? 3. Does your mind form pictures on the story flow? 4. Can you attempt one theme of the story? 5. Is the spacing of literary devices okay? 6. Should I do a complete rewording and sentence structuring? 7. How will the story end? An educated guess of course. 8. Any other comment that might help in anyway, anyhow and somehow?
Posted on: Sun, 06 Jul 2014 13:10:06 +0000