A struggle to exist

I knew things were serious when the loud shouts of “Snake! Snake!” sneaking through my windows into my bedroom persisted. I had had a tired day and I really did not like the idea of lifting my head and dragging my feet to walk out of my bedroom. My eyes were getting weaker with time. I had spent some minutes soothing sleep to come over. By the time sleep was slipping into my bed covers, the loud wails and screams came in between me and sleep, drifting us apart again. I tilted my neck at an angle to listen where the voice was exactly coming from. The more I listened, the louder the voice became. I decided to drag my feet, sleep hanging from my eyes, to the main door. I was in my gray pajama. Right at the door, an inner voice was warning me against going outside. What if the snake is right outside the door? By going outside, I was risking heel strike from the snake. On the other hand, another voice was almost condemning me if I didn’t go out and help the unsuspecting victim. What if the snake has just bitten my neighbor? Will she ever trust me as a friend? The immediate neighbor was a lady I had known for a year. Last time, a few days ago, a frog had hopped into her house. She screamed her lungs out, and I went with my axe, ready to attack anyone threatening the peace of the lady I was slowly falling for. When I found out it was a frog, my body froze. My knees trembled while my flabby ears twitched. My heart raced fast. I joined in her scream, and together we did a nice screaming chorus blended in soprano and bass. I have an acute phobia for frogs and this was a lifeline test of manhood. Furthermore, I dropped the axe and ran back to my room. Whether to she beat the frog out of the room by herself or whether she found a 'red cross' is still unknown to me. I don’t even have the guts to ask about that aftermath.

Last night, history was almost repeating itself. This time round, the devil had decided to raise his game by sending another low-hanging hook. He had resolved to use a snake. Snakes are synonymous to temptations and this one was not an exemption. I had not even picked my axe from the previous experience, yet another challenge was presenting itself uninvited.

There I was, at the door, feebly clutching at a door knob, not knowing what to do. I decided to risk my life so that the neighbor lady will no longer doubt my masculinity and probably neutralize any move to woo her into my life. I did open the door at a very slow motion, keeping an eye to any strange animal that attempts to creep in. This I did so that by the moment the snake peeps its head inside, I would suddenly push the door and crush its head with the door, or suffocate the reptile’s neck to death.

I had opened the door at ninety degrees and no snake showed any sign to sneak in. Relief sat in my belly. Upon throwing my eyes outside, I saw people crowded at the neighborhood. This time round, it wasn’t my female neighbor. I clapped at heart.

Things were boiling serious at my neighbor's yard. I was the only person who was missing in that gathering outside Mr. Joe’s house. I walked stealthily to that place where people were holding all manners of ammunition.

Things were going really haywire. Joe had seen a snake in his living room. He almost broke his legs while fleeing for his dear life. As a result, he had called out people to come to his rescue and kill the snake. Since most ladies cannot accomplish such a task in a silent tongue, they rudely interrupted my slumber. Thus, I was obliged to join that bandwagon of killers.

African solidarity works perfect in such a matter. It is both sad and shameful to write a tribute to a person who was bitten to death by a snake. The gods of the land will be sorrowful and irk at such a heinous act. They will question the people solidarity at the place and even slap the entire community with a three months drought.

Everyone at the scene was holding an ammunition; sticks, swords, machete, scissors, forks and spades. We were ten, together holding tight the spirit of oneness. We were committed to flush out anything attempting to tear down our garment of peace. Nobody was willing to tread on a cursed ground. Furthermore, No one was willing to carry the cross of ignorance in such a tradition conscious generation.

We stormed the living room and found a big snake, dirty-green in color, smiling at us. Everyone was ready to wield their ammunition at this dangerous animal. I was tasked with the duty of closing the door behind me, as the last person to trickle in. I did that.

Mr Obina, the man who have always suffered from verbal diarrhea, shouted, “Your time is up, say your last prayer you small devil!” addressing the snake. The snake kept smiling sheepishly, twisting its neck, as if to mock us. It was rolling its eyes. Mr Obina quickly schemed to count one-two-three. At the very moment he would say “three,” we were supposed to attack the snake at the same time. The people agreed in unison, nodding their heads. They were too terrified to speed. Some knees were already shaking, causing a tremble to some skirts around me. As for me, I was not going to showcase any symptom of weakness as a man. My heart was beating from inside. I was regretting having woken up from the slumber. This was a task they could have accomplished all by themselves. I was not adding any value to the chain of panic-stricken people. After all, I would have a genuine reason for remaining indoors, the next day.

Mr Obina began;

“One!”

Everyone was still. The earth was silent. The grave where we used to bury such animals was opening its mouth, ready to swallow the small devil. The only noise that could be heard was that of people’s heartbeat.

“Two!!!”

Right before he could utter the last word, ‘three', the unexpected happened. There was a sudden Power blackout. The lights went off. There was sudden darkness engulfing everyone in the room including the snake. The room was in pitch darkness.

I have never been pierced in my eardrums with such sharp screams. Amid the dark was sheer commotion, others screaming while others mumbling about some words. The mains power generating stations were cursed more than seventeen times.

It was a case "every man for himself and God for us all" right inside the room.

Nobody had an idea of where the snake was. Neither did anyone know where the exit door was. It was all groping in darkness. You could feel some fingers inserted into your nose and wail loud, thinking it was the small green devil. If you felt that on your ankle, you could hammer both the ankle and the suspected snake.

Amid that frenzy atmosphere, we banged at each other heavily in the dark. Screams were no longer caused by the snake but the painful slaps and bites from people’s scissors. Injuries were piling up speedily.

Being near the door, I managed to get out miraculously. However, I was nursing a broken arm.

My two teeth were loosely hanging, and my jersey was torn. My forehead was swollen, affecting my handsome face. The eyes were not congruent, making me look like a vampire. In such a state, I would have scared the snake itself with my ugly look. Some neighbors almost left their skin in there during the struggle to exist again!