Professor Fayemi's office.

FAYEMI: Ah, a lovely day this has been, very quiet and peaceful. I hope it ends like this, on such a peaceful note.

(Ibiye storms in with The Bugger crushed in her right hand.)

IBIYE: BRUTE! BEAST! APE! SHAMELESS OLD MAN!

(She rains blows on her husband with the paper. The Prof. manages to put some distance

between them.)

FAYEMI: IBIYE! IBIYE! What is the meaning of this? Are you crazy?

IBIYE: Ha, Folu, justice has finally caught up with you.

FAYEMI: Ibiye, why this double-talk? Tell me what I have done wrong.

IBIYE: I will tell you, you lecherous old fool, I will tell you the disgraceful things that you've done though I think you know them already. Tell me, Folu, how many times have I quarrelled with you on this matter of late keeping? And how many times have I asked you the truth of that rumour which says you and Elizabeth are lovers?

FAYEMI: Woman! How dare you embarrass me because of a baseless rumour? How could I have such a beautiful woman like you at home and still chase one hopeless girl outside?

IBIYE: You still tell those horrible lies that you've been using to mask your illicit love affairs? Well, I will not stay here and bandy words with you.

(She throws down the paper at his feet.)

There lies your disgrace. Read it with your own eyes. Perhaps then, you’ll come to your senses and stop lying. As for our marriage, this is the end. (She storms out.)

FAYEMI: (Shouts after her.) IBIYE! IBIYE! Oh, she is gone, leaving me entangled in her riddles!

(Picks up the paper and begins to read. Throws it down afterwards with shaking hands.) Ha! That precious cat which I've taken so much pain to hide has emerged into the full glare of the mid-day sun. I am exposed, and stand naked before the world. There is no garment to hide this terrible disgrace. I wish I had never listened to Lat. whose soft voice like a rod has goaded me into this terrible disgrace. And I wish I had never set my eyes on that girl, Liz, that instrument of divine vengeance sent to tempt me to this great dishonour. But O God, why is it that you have so plagued my life with sorrow and disaster? What have I done deserving this sorrow deep? Will my life continue in this tragic manner? Will I die like this, a broken and unhappy man whose snatches of pleasure have been nothing but preludes to greater disasters? Ooh! It must be that terrible curse placed on me by my father on that fateful night in the forest...

(He freezes. The light dims and goes out. When the light comes back, the scene changes to a forest enveloped in darkness. The time is a few minutes to midnight. Utter darkness except for a ray of light spilling from the partly open door of a hut. Slowly, the door opens wider and a young man of fifteen steps out furtively with a bundle on his shoulders. He has not taken two steps before a voice leapt out of the hut to halt his stealthy getaway.)

OLD MAN: My son! My son, where are you, my son!

FAYEMI: (Rooted to the ground) O God! The cat is already out of the bag!

(Enter an old man, walking with the support of a staff.)

OLD MAN: My son, my son, my only child, where go you in this mysterious midnight hour, walking stealthily like a thief in a sugarcane plantation? Speak, my son, speak to your blind old father who had from your cradle nursed you unaided.

FAYEMI: Father, when the cock crows in the morning, the sun answers its call with smiles of gold. When the thunder rumbles across the sky, the pregnant clouds respond with bursts of rainwater. The fish obeys the call of the river, and the hunting dog never disobeys the call of the hunter's whistle. Father, I hear the call of the city yonder, sucking me into its belly the way an anteater sucks the helpless ant into its stomach. In its power I am as helpless as a new born babe. Father, long have I wandered with you in this forest dim, days of toil and endless labour in the merciless rain, and under the gaze of the scorching sun have I yoked with you till the flower of my youth is almost withered. But now, Father, the call of the city is in my veins and my blood has set in a riot. I must go, Father, I must leave this village and forge a better future for myself in the belly of that shinning city.

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OLD MAN: My son, my son, my only child, when the rat grows old it sucks milk from the breast of its child, and when a lion grows old, it feeds from the mouth of its children. My only son, Folu, long have I suffered for your sake since the very moment you were born and your mother died. Days of endless vigil have I spent to keep you my budding flower from withering before the rise of the sun. O luckless days' Days of hunger and of thirst! Days of toil and ceaseless hardship! Days of wandering through the thick jungle in search of food, nights of searching through the forest for the water that is rarer than diamonds. All this have I endured with the hope that you will care for me in my old age as is your duty. But now, my son, would you these aged old bones leave in the cold wind of the night without a blanket to shield them from its murderous blast? Would you this dying old soul leave without a single thought? Without a fire on the hearth to keep me warm, food to warm my stomach and love to keep me alive? Think son, mediate upon the infinite magnitude of my toils over you and nothing but love shall come forth from your mouth like smoke billowing from the mouth of a cave!

FAYEMI: Father, time is, time was, but time waits for no one. I hear the call of the city coursing through my veins like a fever. I must go, Father, I must. For the longer I stay in this hopeless forest, the dimmer the glimmer of my future grows. To stay here is nothing but death of the soul and enslavement of the body, for I stay not to grow with age but to dwindle with time; and only to keep company with the baboons, the apes, and the brainless orang-utans. Father, I must go.

OLD MAN: My son, have you no compassion for old age? Would you not in this forest stay with me and nurse me with as much care as I lavished on you in your infancy?

FAYEMI: No, Father, I will not. Yet, I am not, totally lacking in compassion. Come with me into that city and together we shall forge a brighter future for ourselves.

OLD MAN: No, my son, I will not step out of this forest that has claimed the better part of

my life. Indeed, I will not. Even though it is wild and unpredictable, yet home it is for me for it provides me with food and shelter. Will you stay, son?

FAYEMI: No, Father, I will not.

OLD MAN: Indeed no?

FAYEMI: No. I will not stay to rust here like iron rods in the belly of the earth. Instead, I will seize the golden arrow of adventure and on its slippery shaft ride me to victory ... or to death.

OLD MAN: Go then my son, go. A dog about to get lost will not hear the call of the hunter. I have no strength to keep you here against you will. Nor would I so do even if I had. I see now that it is cold water that flows in your veins not blood, and your heart dances not to the rhythm of love, but beats forth contempt towards me your aged father. Go, but you go not with your father's blessing but his curse everlasting. You are like the spring of water flowing towards the desert, you flow not to happiness but darkness, death and disgrace for on your way lies no regeneration. Even as you so misuse and disgrace me in my old age, denying me of the love that a son owes as a duty to his father, so shall a child of your loins bring you down to the earth in disgrace. Goodbye, my son, I go to die in the abode of my fathers.

FAYEMI: Goodbye, Father.

(Exit both in opposite directions. Light dims on the forest scene and brightens on Fayemi's office.)

FAYEMI: Now I regret abandoning my aged father on that fateful night. This bright name that I’ve carved for myself is like a fleeting moment of glory the end of which is darkness, death and disgrace. I wish I had stayed in the village for this city is a worse, more wicked jungle than I had envisaged at first. But now it is too late to return. I am already trapped in its womb like a fly in the web of the spider. I cannot now turn back to live with the apes and the baboons of the forest. I wish I had never set my eyes on Liz, for her beauty lured me into this horrible disgrace. (He stands still for a few minutes. Enter Liz.) What do you want, you foul thing? Have you come to lure me into further disgrace and shame?

LIZ: (Angrily.) You filthy animal, shame of the womb that brought you to life, now that you have satisfied your lustful desires, do you dare call me foul? However, I have not come to beg sweet words from your vile mouth but to know what you plan to do with this thing that you have planted in my belly.

FAYEMI: You filthy, hopeless girl, what have I planted in your belly?

LIZ: What a question? Look, you have impregnated me and all I want to know is your plan for the baby and me.

FAYEMI: Pregnant or what did you say?

LIZ: Yes, PREGNANT!

FAYEMI: You must be joking!

LIZ: And a dangerous joke it is! When you were straddling me like a horse, you did not think it a joke then, did you? When you blackmailed me to go to bed with you, you did not think it a joke then. Now that the fruit of your labour has come, you talk of jokes! Well, you are the one joking and not I who have been carrying this thing for the past three months!

FAYEMI: You useless girl, so you’ve been pregnant for three months and refused to tell me before now? Well, you’re just a good-time girl, and I have no plans for such as you. Go and abort that foul thing or keep it. That’s your cup of tea. Goodbye, and don't let me see you here again. Foolish girl!

(The Prof. storms out.)

LIZ: Oh, this man is wicked, wicked, so wicked. Oh God, what am I going to do now? .

(She breaks into tears as she, too, walks out.)