She ran, her tongue flailing like a thirsty bingo in the jungle yearning for the cool water bowl in its master’s house. She did not know where she was going. Her feet just continued to pound the thorn-thistle path. Then, she heard it – sounds of big vehicles breezing past ahead. She fanned out her arms like an eagle hovering in the high clouds. In a burst of speed she came out, onto a tarred road.
***
The night was cold and scary. Baba Di after his night rituals which consisted mostly of groans and grunts and mutterings had poured a warm liquid over her head. When it streamed into her eyes she’d screamed until her voice broke and only whimpers escaped her trembling lips. After the pain came sweet emptiness. Ojuola fell into a deep slumber from which she was only awakened when the birds’ chirping heralded the rising dawn. She felt it in the first moment of wakefulness. It was very different. Her eyes fluttered open and the acacia trees waved its branches in a halo over her head. It took just a moment and it hit her.
“I can see! See!” she squealed. Her palm covered her quivering lips as she surveyed the alcove for the old man. She was alone. Adrenaline pumped in a surge through her veins. Her legs found motion.
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