CHAPTER 18

Jide clenched his fist and shifted the wooden stool on his head. The sun was just beginning to stand on the world so high, but he could sense his blood boiling with what he could only interpret as anger. The uneasiness on his soul added more salt to his injury. This was a futile effort. Reporting the town crier's crime to the elders was like a deer picking a fight with a Wolf and going after to report to the pack how badly they've hurt it. They were all the same, the elders and the town crier alike. Stray dogs don't leave their deeds in the dark. Even their whiff could be perceived from a far distance.

Jide hissed and held firmly the wooden stool whose weight was beginning to burrow a hole in his scalp. While most Osu (outcasts), would die with excitement to have a moment in the King’s court, Jide found it rather annoying. The urine smell of the court, and the old woman who walked about bare chest, made him wonder if beauty has lost its tussle with ugliness. Even those so-called wise men of the village could hardly keep their cloth and beard clean. Well, maybe they usually hide some of the King’s gold under their unshaved mustache. There was no better explanation.

“I hope you remembered everything I taught you,”

Jide nodded but remained quiet. His father towered at his right, and his muscular features shed the light of the sun, casting a shadow upon Jide. Unlike the so-called elders, Maduka kept a smooth face. It's been years now since Jide was born, yet Jide has never seen any hair on the man's jaw. His face was always immaculate and the stone-cold expression could leave one with the idea that Maduka was mean. It was an irony which Jide was trying so hard to imitate. Maduka's mouth still smelled like a raw egg though, but it was manageable, compared to those men in the King’s cabinet.

“Good,” Was all his father said before returning his attention to the sandy path.

Silence sheathed their travel, leaving their footfalls to announce their presence.

Just ahead, two birds drifted in the air, with one chasing the other fiercely. Maduka took no notice, probably absorbed by the speech he was going to present before the council. He was the only Osu (outcast)allowed in the King's cabinet, all because he had saved the King's life in the first dark war.

But Jide couldn't help the smile as he watched the birds. For the millionth time, he was glad that his father was not a full member of the King’s council. His father was among the Thirty. He was among those fierce warriors who stood face to face with the enemy. Men of valor who fought to bring honor and victory and battle stories home. To Jide, it was more honorable to be a member of the Thirty, than growing roots and tendrils on the skin as a result of sitting down on a spot and watching the sunrise and fall.

"Tell me a story about the dark war"

Maduka breathed in, "Not now, Jide. Ask anything but that. We should keep our focus. The gods bless our souls if they set aside our differences and give us a listening ear."

"But what if the town crier does not show up or what if those Amadi (freeborn), decide to defend their own?” Jide asked.

His father didn’t answer immediately as he was busy exchanging greetings with some two women who hurriedly passed by. Turning back to Jide he said.

"They would try to defend him, especially on the adultery case. I wouldn't batter them either. No, my interest is the damage they caused on our farm."

"The town crier will not show up,"

"Oh, that would be a blessing from the gods.” Maduka laughed “It will make everything easy. The verdict would rule in our favor and that means that the town crier would pay double. One for ignoring the King's call and the other for the damages he did to our farm."

"That mean we will be back before noon?"

"Certainly."

Jide looked at the sky and returned his attention to the sandy path. He had not had breakfast and he wouldn’t want to spend half of his blessed day on that stomach-churning palace.

“What will happen if he was found guilty of adultery, will the king hang him on the crimson pole?”

"Ah, of course not. That would be too extreme. Besides, there is no stipulated law that forbids a man from having a…” Maduka paused and cleared his throat as if something was trying to choke him. The expression on his face was questionable. He never runs short of words. Unless…

“Don’t worry,” Maduka said after some time, “I will explain the laws better when you come of age.”

“Yeah, I know,” Jide grumbled, annoyed that his father always hides the ethics of the people from him. Most matters in the Kingdom were for the mature minds. Everything was written for adults. But I am a grown-up for heaven’s sake. Jide cursed.

“What?” His father asked.

“Oh, nothing” Jide bit his lips not realizing how loud he had been. “What does a mature mind mean?”

“It means one who is older,” Maduka said and waved flippantly to another set of women who were off to the farm.

“Well," Jide shrugged, "since mature minds grow when one becomes older. How long does it take to get old?”

“Long enough.” His father said, still not looking in his direction.

“Long enough?” Jide grunted, “You mean I will have to sprout one of those crazy white hairs first?”

Maduka laughed, this time looking at his son, “In your case, yes. But if you try to ask fewer questions and talk less, perhaps you are not very far from maturity after all.”

“But,” Jide scratched the itching spot on his head, “I thought blabbermouth and idle talk was a sign of maturity.”

“Talking and gossip are two different things.” Maduka said and returned his attention to the road, “Besides, one trait of good adulthood is talking less and listening more.”

"Oh, I see,” Jide licked his lips. “You mean I should practice the art of listening?”

“That’s it, son. The more you listen, the more you learn and see people for what they are. So start talking less, can you do that?”

“I cannot say,” Jide held the wooden stool with his right, easing the fatigued muscles on his left, “I have not done that before.”

“I know. To you, talking is like bread. But that does not mean you cannot start now. Unless you want to remain seven forever.”

“Eight."

"Not until the next new yam festival."

"Seven and a half then."

"Whatever you say," Maduka giggled. "Just practice the art of listening."

"I will learn, Papa.” Jide said, “But what if I can’t. Sometimes I want to remain quiet, but my tongue seems to have a mind of its own. Anyway, I have heard you. All I need to do is try and keep my tongue intact and cease from thinking too much. That would be the best thing and the only way to keep my mouth from saying things they are not supposed to say. Even now I can feel my tongue running on a grease track and…

“Jide!!” Maduka shouted. He didn’t bother to hide the anger and worries that were already paddling the side of his face. “Less talk, remember?”

“Oh, less talk.,” Jide swallowed. He had always seen himself growing into one of the best young men in the village. But with what his father had said, he realized that the journey wouldn’t be an easy one. He was tired of being a kid though. He was tired of this young age where the secrets of the kingdom will remain a mystery. Anyway, this was his moment. If staying quiet was a way of growing into adulthood, he was ready to sacrifice his many words.

“We are here.” Maduka was saying before Jide could register his environment, “Keep calm and remember everything I told you. Don’t talk unless you are asked a question. Try to keep your composure and on no occasion must you look directly at the King.”

“Ah, Papa. How can I do that?”

“You can. Remember our trick, ‘toe speech?”

“Yes, how can I forget.”

“Good, I want you to use ‘toe speech’ to keep your eyes from wandering. You hear me?”

“Crystal, sir,” Jide said as he lowered the wooden chair from his head and followed his father behind.