Everyone had heard so much of it but no one had ever witnessed it. This year, the weather people had said it would pass through the town and the townfolk had heard numerous explanations on what it would be like. Some said it was going to be dark for three days and a lot of people would die because a curse had been pronounced on the town; others said it was the government's way of shielding the many problems of the society by instilling fear into people; others said after the eclipse, the devil will be released to earth and the world would come to an end- the last reason seemed to be the popular feeling about the early hours of the morning when the eclipse was scheduled to take place.
‘A brief period of darkness in the middle of the day about noon. There is nothing to worry about’, the weather people had said. In thier words, ‘It was only a shy moon trying to shield the eyes of her lover from the heat of the sun’s passion’.
As much as everyone tried to solve the mystery in thier heads, most people in the town just could not fathom it. So everyone waited and watched to see for themselves how it would all play out; trying hard to maintain status quo as they went about thier daily business; thier collective minds tuned to mid-day. The anticipation in the town was so high, it grazed the surface of the sky where the event was scheduled to occur later that day and people stood in respective clusters each with thier own interpretation of the mystery yet to unfold.
The beer parlors were crowded with ‘drinkards’ hoping to drink thier last beer lest it be the end of the world and they might not have another chance to drink again. 'Ha ha ha!', rained ribald laughter from the beer parlor as they joked to words which normally would not sound funny.
The church stalls were filled with ‘Prayers’ hoping the period of darkness that would cover the earth in that little moment would not loosen the devil from his bounds in the pit of hell and spare him the window of opportunity to be cast back to earth again.
‘Shantabrakata takakaka rekekekke bushma!’ rained mystery tongues from the church stalls, spilling onto the fields filled with children running helter-skelter looking at the skies and singing childhood songs. Songs that once one became an adult, started to reek of folly but in the prime of childhood, meant the whole world.
‘Sun, Sun close your eyes’
‘Run, run, the moon has come’
‘Tunbo, tunbo gbaskelebe’
‘Jasi gutter- push!’
Hawkers everywhere screamed thier wares too; and even dogs, joined the fray, barking in anticipation and chasing themselves about as they too waited for the eclipse. Whether from reading the actions of the entropic people about them or from the inner intuition of animals, no one could say; but all in all, both dog and man, everyone in the town, in anticipation of one same event, ran around in circles, looked up and waited.
In all this commotion however, some slept off at home unconcerned. If it was the end of the world who cared? It was even the better for them. Wasn’t there too much suffering already?
In a face-me-i-face-you bungalow somewhere in the town, in one of the stale rooms banked on either side of a long corridor sat one of the last set of people that did not care much about the excitement that abound without. His mind was on the inner clock that ticked towards noon when the loan shark would send his boys to collect the money he owed. He had been about to leave his room the day before when one of the ‘boys’ had approached him to give him the message, delivering it with a solid slap that boiled water in his ears.
‘Tomoro! He said through lips cracked from crack,
‘Tomoro we go come collet de money!
In another side of town leaning on the balcony of her aged husband’s house, revealing firm cleavage, was a young woman whose body craved for the fleeting window of passion the eclipse would grant her to make out with the houseboy with whom she had discovered an unholy acquintance. As her mind raced through the narrow escape escapades they had had in times past, her juices flowed in anticipation of his rough probing fingers.
She moaned softly to herself, lost in the moment hoping the darkness would come all too soon as she watched the heat of the sun; in denial of the death that stood to befall it later in midday.
With each shortening shadow the fetters cast on the earthen floor, the man’s mind turmoil-turned spat out more spleen. Why had he done this to himself? 49, 17, 15 was sure banker- at least that was what he had been told. How could the numbers not have won?
Now he was in hot soup; one in a boiling cauldron at that. ‘Jaguar’ was going to skin him alive.
Having borrowed a hefty sum from the area father to put into the pools, he immediately knew his life was over when he got to the tally office to find out none of his lucky numbers had been listed in the winning for the week. Having thought through his narrow options, he had decided to leave; but how he would evade the watching eyes of Jaguars goons had remained a mystery until God had blessed him with the news of the eclipse. His only prayer was that the darkness would last longer, if it did not have the courage to last forever.
As the aged man shuffled onto the balcony with his bottle-thick lenses sitting on the rims of his nose and his front teeth open from starring through the bottom half of the glasses the young woman’s heart beat faster. She had not expected the tortoise to live this long. When she chose to marry him, he had looked like a ghost ready to be severed from the leash of mortality. But five years down the line, even though he looked ghostlier, the old man did not seem in a hurry to leave. At first she had kept her restraint but with time, her underutilsed body started to yearn for more than the aged man could offer and like the miracle they said would happen by mid-day, the omnipresent old man had cast a huge shadow over her freedom and her youth, dimming her to just another decoration in the house. He never allowed her to work, shop, cook; and unfortunately did not have the energy to keep her company in bed or in discussions of her age owing to the generation gap between them.
Like the waning sun, she watched the man settle in his low chair and remove his glasses to clean them. She crossed over gently into the living room and headed for the kitchen as soon as she heard the dull thud of the glasses case on the side stool. She knew for sure that the unspectacled old man only felt her presence but did not see her; without those bottle lenses he was as blind as a bat.
‘Akpan!’, she shouted in feigned dryness that smelt wetness beneath.
‘Akpan!’, will you come to the kitchen straight away? What kind of mess have you made of this kitchen?
In a face-me-i-face-you bungalow somewhere in the town, in one of the stale rooms banked on either side of a long corridor sat one of the last set of people that did not care much about the excitement that abound without. His mind was on the inner clock that ticked towards noon when the loan shark would send his boys to collect the money he owed. He had been about to leave his room the day before when one of the ‘boys’ had approached him to give him the message, delivering it with a solid slap that boiled water in his ears.
‘Tomoro! He said through lips cracked from crack,
‘Tomoro we go come collet de money!
In another side of town leaning on the balcony of her aged husband’s house, revealing firm cleavage, was a young woman whose body craved for the fleeting window of passion the eclipse would grant her to make out with the houseboy with whom she had discovered an unholy acquintance. As her mind raced through the narrow escape escapades they had had in times past, her juices flowed in anticipation of his rough probing fingers.
She moaned softly to herself, lost in the moment hoping the darkness would come all too soon as she watched the heat of the sun; in denial of the death that stood to befall it later in midday.
With each shortening shadow the fetters cast on the earthen floor, the man’s mind turmoil-turned spat out more spleen. Why had he done this to himself? 49, 17, 15 was sure banker- at least that was what he had been told. How could the numbers not have won?
Now he was in hot soup; one in a boiling cauldron at that. ‘Jaguar’ was going to skin him alive.
Having borrowed a hefty sum from the area father to put into the pools, he immediately knew his life was over when he got to the tally office to find out none of his lucky numbers had been listed in the winning for the week. Having thought through his narrow options, he had decided to leave; but how he would evade the watching eyes of Jaguars goons had remained a mystery until God had blessed him with the news of the eclipse. His only prayer was that the darkness would last longer, if it did not have the courage to last forever.
As the aged man shuffled onto the balcony with his bottle-thick lenses sitting on the rims of his nose and his front teeth open from starring through the bottom half of the glasses the young woman’s heart beat faster. She had not expected the tortoise to live this long. When she chose to marry him, he had looked like a ghost ready to be severed from the leash of mortality. But five years down the line, even though he looked ghostlier, the old man did not seem in a hurry to leave. At first she had kept her restraint but with time, her underutilsed body started to yearn for more than the aged man could offer and like the miracle they said would happen by mid-day, the omnipresent old man had cast a huge shadow over her freedom and her youth, dimming her to just another decoration in the house. He never allowed her to work, shop, cook; and unfortunately did not have the energy to keep her company in bed or in discussions of her age owing to the generation gap between them.
Like the waning sun, she watched the man settle in his low chair and remove his glasses to clean them. She crossed over gently into the living room and headed for the kitchen as soon as she heard the dull thud of the glasses case on the side stool. She knew for sure that the unspectacled old man only felt her presence but did not see her; without those bottle lenses he was as blind as a bat.
‘Akpan!’, she shouted in feigned dryness that smelt wetness beneath.
‘Akpan!’, will you come to the kitchen straight away? What kind of mess have you made of this kitchen?
The heat of the overhead sun had started to dissipate as the ambience of the town dimmed in a forced evening of spheres at war. The eclipse was near.
With each degree of dimming, the entropy about the town increased; making the people look like sizzling bubbles in boiling water colliding against each other.
‘Prayers’ nodded thier heads faster, swinging it from side to side while singing songs of deliverance to keep the devil at bay. ‘Drinkards’ ordered more beer and stood to dance to the music supplied by a set of cracked speakers in one corner of the bar: they didnt hear it anyway, they just danced. Children played around and everyone began to wear the sun shades and look up to the greying skies (the rays of the eclipse alone can blind you- everyone had heard) as they watched the premature night in its grand entrance.
The man quickly packed all his belongings- about two shirts; as the shadows lengthened into the aging noon. He knew somewhere out there, the goons of Jaguar would be watching. About a minute walk from his house was a motorcyclist with whom he had made arrangements a night before to make his escape.
‘Akpan!’ can’t you ever do anything right? The young woman screamed from the kitchen, shouting for the benefit of the listening old man as she hit the Calabar cook hard enough on the rump as to suggest a slap on the face.
Kpa! the slap clapped as flesh hit flesh.
Akpan, grabbing her buttocks with both hands, dragged her towards him, and responded in like manner,
‘Ah! Madam, Werin i do now?’
The darkness was growing deeper now and the ‘Shantabrakata’ of the ‘Prayers’ grew louder with the ensuing noise of anticipation and excitement.
Slowly, the man crept out of his house: like the shadow of the moon creeping deeper upon the face of the earth- shielding the earth from the heat; the woman and her lover (mid-heat) from the blind eyes on the balcony; and the man, from the prying eyes of his creditors. The last crescent sliver of light disappeared into the night like an oversharpened sickle and the motorcycle’s headlamp blinked twice urging the man to walk faster in the dark.
Akpan’s hands found the hasps of his madam’s bra in the dark as he un-cupped the young wife’s breasts allowing only goosebumps to cover them. Digging his way savagely into the crescent cups, he didn’t need the light to find his way deep between his madam’s thighs, teasing out a moan that had to remain suppressed in guilt- lending more heat to the writhing bodies burning on the cooker top.
His hands moved faster as the darkness peaked in her gloom digging deep into the dark void that shrouded the earth.
Outside, the noise continued.
Cameras clicked here and there in brief flashes and sightseers brought out all manner of gadgets to capture the occassion. Campers in 'Aso-Ebi' that no one could notice in the darkness sat on their bonnets; Drummers in tactile discussions with unseen drums beat on their hides- pulling the ropes taut or loose to speak languages, from drum to drum spoken, but understood by men.
In all, the glory of the eclipse kept every watcher in awe, amazed at the mysteries which stood farther than the horizon of thier imagination. And as all things that are not understood, myriads of people seized the opportunity to make a show of it.
Self appointed priests pronounced prophecies; Juju men raised thier fowls to the sky, spinning them dizzy- thier heads to be torn off when the sun ‘came back’; Politicians made speeches on loudspeakers; and ‘Shantabrakata’ increased in tempo as the much awaited event passed letting the light back in on the darkness shrouded town.
Like all great expectations of mankind, the eclipse was forever lost in that single moment; leaving the light sneaking back in like it never left, the man fleeing back-route like he’d never left, and breasts, sore from sucking couched back in thier lace-strained hasps like they never left.
With each degree of dimming, the entropy about the town increased; making the people look like sizzling bubbles in boiling water colliding against each other.
‘Prayers’ nodded thier heads faster, swinging it from side to side while singing songs of deliverance to keep the devil at bay. ‘Drinkards’ ordered more beer and stood to dance to the music supplied by a set of cracked speakers in one corner of the bar: they didnt hear it anyway, they just danced. Children played around and everyone began to wear the sun shades and look up to the greying skies (the rays of the eclipse alone can blind you- everyone had heard) as they watched the premature night in its grand entrance.
The man quickly packed all his belongings- about two shirts; as the shadows lengthened into the aging noon. He knew somewhere out there, the goons of Jaguar would be watching. About a minute walk from his house was a motorcyclist with whom he had made arrangements a night before to make his escape.
‘Akpan!’ can’t you ever do anything right? The young woman screamed from the kitchen, shouting for the benefit of the listening old man as she hit the Calabar cook hard enough on the rump as to suggest a slap on the face.
Kpa! the slap clapped as flesh hit flesh.
Akpan, grabbing her buttocks with both hands, dragged her towards him, and responded in like manner,
‘Ah! Madam, Werin i do now?’
The darkness was growing deeper now and the ‘Shantabrakata’ of the ‘Prayers’ grew louder with the ensuing noise of anticipation and excitement.
Slowly, the man crept out of his house: like the shadow of the moon creeping deeper upon the face of the earth- shielding the earth from the heat; the woman and her lover (mid-heat) from the blind eyes on the balcony; and the man, from the prying eyes of his creditors. The last crescent sliver of light disappeared into the night like an oversharpened sickle and the motorcycle’s headlamp blinked twice urging the man to walk faster in the dark.
Akpan’s hands found the hasps of his madam’s bra in the dark as he un-cupped the young wife’s breasts allowing only goosebumps to cover them. Digging his way savagely into the crescent cups, he didn’t need the light to find his way deep between his madam’s thighs, teasing out a moan that had to remain suppressed in guilt- lending more heat to the writhing bodies burning on the cooker top.
His hands moved faster as the darkness peaked in her gloom digging deep into the dark void that shrouded the earth.
Outside, the noise continued.
Cameras clicked here and there in brief flashes and sightseers brought out all manner of gadgets to capture the occassion. Campers in 'Aso-Ebi' that no one could notice in the darkness sat on their bonnets; Drummers in tactile discussions with unseen drums beat on their hides- pulling the ropes taut or loose to speak languages, from drum to drum spoken, but understood by men.
In all, the glory of the eclipse kept every watcher in awe, amazed at the mysteries which stood farther than the horizon of thier imagination. And as all things that are not understood, myriads of people seized the opportunity to make a show of it.
Self appointed priests pronounced prophecies; Juju men raised thier fowls to the sky, spinning them dizzy- thier heads to be torn off when the sun ‘came back’; Politicians made speeches on loudspeakers; and ‘Shantabrakata’ increased in tempo as the much awaited event passed letting the light back in on the darkness shrouded town.
Like all great expectations of mankind, the eclipse was forever lost in that single moment; leaving the light sneaking back in like it never left, the man fleeing back-route like he’d never left, and breasts, sore from sucking couched back in thier lace-strained hasps like they never left.
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