- sing, my children sing. For tonight, we burn.-

Excepts from a poem to the old ones.

The cold breeze of the harmattan woke adebayo from sleep, yawning he pushed his face into the pillows, the morning crow of the cock, announcing new dawn.

sighing, he stretched his legs from under the bed covers, it was lean yet the striations of the muscles under his ebony skin, showed his athleticism, he was faintly muttering as he stood up from the bed. A passing breeze could bring the sound of “ help me", “lies", and “ heart" to an astute observer, but his serene countenance did not denote any negative vibes to his whispered words.

He walked to the windows and shifted his curtains, flinching a little from the warm orange sunrise. The sound of the goats and chickens in their pens greeted him.

He drew a deep breath into his lungs, his left hand that has been clutching a necklace around his neck returned to his waist, and with a flourish gripped the edge of his shirt and drew it over his head.

He heard a deep chanting from the adjourning room next to him, he knew his grandfather has started his morning libations to the ancestors, so he had a few minutes to prepare for the daily activities ahead, he should have woken up earlier, but the nights were cold, and the embrace of his blanket, a soft comfort he could not let go off.

He imagined the disapproving frown of his grandfather as he hurried down to the bathroom for his morning cleansing rituals, a few moments later he emerged clean and refreshed ... shirtless he strode into the yard, opening the pens for the goats to go out and graze, and liberally doling out feeds to the chickens.

The biggest cock muscled his way into the centre of the clutch,.. “ henry, there is enough for all of you", Adebayo grinned at the chicken. Henry raised his head, and Adebayo would have sworn there was disdain in the eyes of the cock.

Henry swoosh the feathers of his wings and ignored him as he busily pecked the feed from the floor__Henry was the oldest cock, his lush feathers and bright comb on his head, exuding vitality, and a cunning glint in his eyes, proof he had conquered many mates and escaped the butcher knives for a while and was going on strong...

He gazed at the expanse of land around him, the bushes are overgrown, yet now dry and brown under the relentless harmattan heat and dry winds.

In the sprawling compound there were three buildings; the three-bedroom affair that he and his baba stayed, the kitchen that was an entire building unto itself, and also served as a storage shed, and at the far end of the compound situated on a patch of land that was bereft of any vegetation sat a dark red building with a single doorway, that had no windows. The roof was shaped in form of a dome, with mysterious lines of script etched into it.

He recognised those scripts, though he could not read them yet, or rather sing them, according to his baba, reading them was taboo, learning to properly sing the verse was crucial for the worship of the old gods, and every pitch change in the melodies carried specific meaning.

The dark red building was also the only one not built with concrete and rebar but rather baked clay, it was the shrine of the village, where annually his grandfather dragged the screaming animals inside for the sacrifice to the old gods.

They oddly went mute when approaching that door, for an instinct inside them knew they were approaching death, and animals had grace in their parting from life. Or perhaps they sensed the wrongness.

Ade had always felt it. That otherness. Like an itch you could not quite reach. He hated the sight of the shrine.

It was the shrine of the old gods. And he was fated to be the next priest.

Its doors was always open to the elements and were always strangely dark within, there was also no attached fixtures in the single-storey building, it was all right angles and straight lines.

The dark door had a magnetic pull that drew his gaze every time. They promised forgotten secrets and hidden horror.

He started a little when he saw the darkness shift inside that cavernous doorway that swallowed light and even sound.

He remembered when younger, throwing stones inside; expecting the noise of impact, only to be scared witless by the deep silence... he was not paranoid, there was something wrong about that shrine.

baba denounced him never to enter the shrine, an instruction he was ever willing to abide by.

“maybe the priest was right when he repeatedly denounced baba as a demon worshipper”, Adebayo mumbled, baba also had choice words he used for the priest, “a child lover” and for a while young Adebayo did not understand what he meant, but his world wise friend Robert, regaled him in vivid Descriptions the shady rumours of a priest and an altar boy.

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He told the story with gusto, beating his chest that his words were true, but Adebayo had always felt it was a depressing truth to know for a young child. Robert had always been a strange one.

Robert was an enigma with sad eyes, his father was a notorious drunk and was not afraid to use his fist on his wife and children.

As the memories of their childhood played in his head a wistful smile drifted along his face, and with a mental shrug, he turned his face and moved away.

Breathing in deeply of the cold morning breeze the scent of dry leaves tingling inside his throat as the leaves crumpled under his strides releasing their nutty fragrance, it would be time to burn them soon.

The entire property was on a hill, overlooking the entire village, from here he could see the forest that encircled a huge portion of the village, the only road that led into the small community was tarred, it was straight and unbending, and it disappeared into the horizon like a spear.

The smokes was rising from many kitchen fires, the old ways of cooking was still prevalent among the village folks. And their housing arrangement was similar to theirs, the kitchen was kept separated from the living quarters, to avoid fire hazards.

He strode towards the kitchen, his long legs eating the distance, he diligently opened the doors and windows, and cleaned the kitchen.

A little while later, and an aromatic scent wafted from the enclosure, Adebayo was preparing a simple dish of fried bean curd and fermented cereal pudding...

“ good morning boy" his grandfather called out, as he walked into the kitchen and sat by the table. He was wearing his usual garb, a grey ceremonial robe, that had various openings that were zipped shut.

These were pockets that was filled with the various tricks of the trade used by Baba, to his younger mind the robe had an infinite amount of pockets, even after cutting down his expectations to the barest minimum he would not be surprised if the pockets were still that much!, baba could pull the most amazing things out of them....

"morning baba" Adebayo replied and carried the plates of food to him. His grandfather wasting no time in digging into his breakfast, inquired about the activities of the day.

“ how many white chalk are left?”...

“I think we used the last of it yesterday, “

Baba frowned “I know that boy, but why do I see the shed empty of clay...it should have been filled up, ready for moulding by today"

Adebayo looked down in shame, his tongue heavy with glue, kumbi, his second closest friend, sister to Robert and also his childhood crush returned from the city yesterday, quick witted and beautiful, she had won a scholarship to pursue the course of sturdy of her choice at the University, she left other competitors in the dust, only Adebayo results were equal with hers.

For his duties to the shrine, he abandoned the offer for scholarship, and with regrets watched her leave, he was pleasantly surprised at her return, she wasn't supposed to be back for at least another two weeks.

Adebayo had been spending too much time with her, he turned seventeen this month, and he remembered the tingling of electricity that ran down his skin when she ran to him and held his hand when he saw her again at the market, the day before.

Smack.....Adebayo was taken aback by the stinging pain in his thigh, he rapidly backed away, as with a swoosh the next strike missed him. the walking stick baba keeps by the table was summarily returned, it was a warning strike, Adebayo knew if baba was serious he would have continued to dole out more blows.

Baba was still spry for his age and did not need a walking stick, it was a disciplinary tool he used on Adebayo, and even other unruly adults, not discriminating between male and female, baba's famous cane was notorious for both speed and the sheer pain that it could deliver.

looking at the sneering face of baba, his nose pulled in a horrible facsimile of cruelty, but that shouldn't fool you, for it belied a surprisingly gentle soul beneath, Adebayo rapidly stammered.

“Baba, the repairs for the wheelbarrow was completed yesterday, and I...”

“ Shut up boy!, I knew the repairs was completed yesterday, the welder knows better than to kindle my wrath by not finishing my repairs on time. But you." Baba grimaced " you threw away your time yesterday by chasing that girl, disregarding your chores"

Guilt like tar, bubbled from his stomach. Baba was harsh but fair, he had given him enough time to do his chores yesterday, but in thrills of an awakened friendship, and dare he hoped for__ romance.

He forgot his duty, Baba was not just the keeper of the shrine, he was also the village herbalist and curator, he knew the history of the village, the tales of their ancestors, and the sagas of their gods, and he was strict with his teachings. Time for him was precious, and he had looked away and given Ade plenty of time to catch up, but he carelessly disregarded his chores and used more of his time.

After living with baba, Adebayo knew apologies without a solid reasoning behind his actions, whether right or wrong only invited a more severe beating, his Baba strangely never put much importance to truth only the reasons for the actions he took, he always said the tongues of the gods were two faced, and as their keeper they were their mirrors.

It took a while for Adebayo to learn that Baba did not expect truth always, and a carefully crafted lie seemed to satisfy him.

His mind played different scenarios in a chaotic frenzy as his mouth spoke for him, his wit hurried behind, assembling scattered thoughts into a whole counter-argument.

Wetting his lips, Adebayo spoke “the boys played a football game by the river yesterday, the clay should be too dirty, It would be better if the tide rolled in, I would be able to find a cleaner soil to work with today."

He raised his eyes slightly, his grandfather leaned back on his chair.

Breathing easier a little, he continued “ sifting through dirty clay would take twice as long as not letting the river water do the work”.

his heart pounded, expecting a verbal thrashing. This was not his best lie, and he could point out several holes in his narration.

Any reply he was to be expecting ended, when a felt rather than heard a loud thump, his teeth snapped shut narrowly missing his tongue, as his breath was drove out forcefully from his chest.

A sound like a flesh been torn by an unearthly force resounded, he stumbled to the ground and he reached for his grandfather that was lying face first the floor, he crawled towards him, distantly aware of the floor vibrating.

He touched baba arms and as gently as he could turned his body, Baba was out cold. kneeling on the floor he cradled baba head on his lap, and he noticed the blood gushing from the scalp.

“Baba... Baba”, he wheezed, a louder thump resounded and this time he looked out the now broken windows, a dull look came over his eyes as he saw the sky

-for it was on fire!