During the monthly meeting of the Man O’ War club in our university, the need for an excursion to a primary forest on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean met general acceptance. If we were expected to confront cult members who use forests as their training grounds, the argument went, we needed live experience of a forest. The trip would be a test of the ‘strength of material’ for a paramilitary youth force. How would anyone claim to be tough enough to go after student cult groups who use forests as their operational bases if such a person dreaded the precinct of a real forest?
We agreed to cross a tame strip of the ocean to a primary forest. Although subject to eruptions without notice the strip posed less danger and gave us easy access to the targeted area.
To use oars to row the boat and to explore the precincts of the forest were regarded as part of our training to toughen us for rough aspects of our duty in the university.
The Dean of Student Affairs encouraged us to embark on the trip to build our capacity. He told us on one occasion he found it difficult to understand the reason students were more inclined to subject themselves to the authority of fellow students and less to controls by the police and university authorities. To emphasize his thinking, he forwarded our letter to the Vice Chancellor and followed up for approval which included money for logistics.
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On the scheduled day we assembled at the agreed muster point and used a track road which passed by the fence of the residence of a ‘big man.’ Without expectation. an Alsatian appeared from nowhere and stood on our path. It made no sound but stood at the middle of the path. I looked at our Commander, a young man about twenty-two years of age. Fear formed doodles on his face like strokes of a marker on a white board. The situation required zippy action before a major problem occurred.
A proverb in my community came to mind and I found it of optimum applicability. A dog bites the pupil of someone’s eye, the proverb goes. This means if someone looks into the eyeballs of a dog it regards it as a challenge and a threat. The dog may attack the person as a form of defence. I whispered to those in front, ‘Avoid its eyes. Look down.’ They did and the dog which growled when it saw us became silent. A man appeared, called out to the dog and it turned and trotted away. We scaled the first hurdle on a journey meant to toughen us but the spirited conversation ended and we walked in silence to the water front. No one said it but the minor role I played received the notice of the team including Sandra who gave me the thumbs up.
At the water front the boat hired for the trip bobbed on the gentle waves oblivious of the dangers its users were to face in a short while. A designer boat it reminded me of the shape of a well-formed girl and I took split seconds to ask myself what went on in the mind of the first person who conceived of and scratched the design of a boat on the surface of wet earth.
Before we boarded I asked the Commander whether provisioning for the trip included a box of matches or a lighter. He turned to the Welfare Officer who said the carryall with him contained no such items. A member of the team asked: “What do we need a lighter for?”
“If we are benighted,” I answered.
“May the good Lord forbid,” a girl shouted.
“Our agenda made no provision for an Alsatian. We must be armed as if we are to face a war. No normal person should see a forest as a home and the owners may see us as threats. Besides, people get lost in forests, which reminds me, I hope you have a compass with you? I asked Commander.
“We shall use Google map,” Commander replied.
“You are certain we can read it and read it well?
A member of the team known as Toy made no effort to hide his irritation and fear and shouted: “Why are you negative – and pessimistic?”
I prefer to call myself a realist or, well, call me a pragmatist. The issues I have raised can be classified as due diligence, I replied.
The Commander went to a nearby kiosk to buy critical items such as flashlight, a box of matches, two long knives, a kitchen knife, and rain coats. We boarded the boat but I suggested the Commander should sit at the front end while the burly young man with us named Burly Boy or BB should sit at the helm.
“People know the chicken which will be a cock on the day it emerges from the shell. Go to the front of the boat,” a team member said. Because no one raised a voice against the idea I sat at the front and we moved. The club’s songs filled the breeze as we rowed the boat and cut through the mild waves.
Little happened during the duration of the “aqueous flight” as someone described it except when an overzealous member attempted to catch a fish which jumped into the air close by. The boat banked and took in some water which left everyone frightened because we had no life vests. I forgot to raise it but if I did I am certain there would have been uproar all the more as no boat owner at the locality owned life vests for hire.
We docked on the gray flat mound of sand at the beach. The rough docking made the girls to scream while the boys cheered. We piled out and prepared ourselves for the trip into the forest.
Before we commenced our venture we agreed to spend two hours in total. This implied thirty minutes inside the forest, thirty minutes return trip, and one hour for lunch on the sandy beach.
For the journey into the forest I suggested the Commander should lead while the burly boy should be at the rear. I followed up with a suggestion on the gender mix by way of a girl followed by a boy but such would make a girl to take the rear. I opted to take the rear but the team insisted I should stand behind Commander. I did and we moved in a single file on a path close by but after we had armed ourselves with sticks sharpened at one end. The sticks were considered necessary in case mass defence became necessary.
About five minutes into the dense vegetation it appeared an unseen hand turned down a knob which controlled the intensity of light and heat. The sudden change in light intensity and decrease in temperature lowered our morale. Despite these early challenges we moved deeper into the forest.
The coldness and low visibility dampened my enthusiasm but with no effect on my ability to appreciate the music ensemble of nature. Birds chirped different tunes but in the cacophony I noted the hoot of an owl. Being superstitious I became agitated but when I recalled the group regarded me as the actual leader of the expedition I forced myself to smile and hummed the national anthem. No one joined but when I changed it to a chorus with the line: “God can do anything, anything, anywhere, God can do anything all the time,” everyone joined with gusto.
But the song got stuck in everyone’s throat at the same time at a point. We saw nothing and heard nothing extraordinary but everyone on the single file stood still. We felt dread till I cleared my throat and went ahead of the Commander to shout: “Move everyone.” I moved two steps but stopped when I observed a shadow in front. A man with gray shorts, long socks, and a brown t-shirt stood as a figurine on the path. He wore something on his head which I believed should be a head lamp. I shouted: “Who are you?”
“A hunter,” he replied.
“If you are human why are you alone in this place?” I asked.
“I have good company.”
“Who may they be?”
“They are Mr. Courage, Madam Hope, Mrs. Expectation, and Mr. Foolhardiness. You have the same company.”
“Can we go with you?”
“No. You will be a distraction. To any visitor this damnable abode should be compared to a market. Commence your visit, conclude, and leave at your will and pleasure – if you survive.”
“If you consider it terrible must you be here?”
“I must.”
“Why?”
“If I stay home the antelope and other animals you enjoy will stay here rather than occupy your plates. If I stay at home the bartender’s business will fail. If I stay at home young people like you will have no food and no school fees.”
“Okay, thanks for the sacrifice. But can we go with you a little further?”
“No.”
“But –.” I stopped when he melted away.
“You may have engaged in a conversation with a ghost,” a shaken Commander said.
“Ghosts speak through their nostrils,” a team member said.
“Folk tales,” another said.
“I suggest we turn back,” Toy whispered. “The words if you survive sound scary.”
“I am tempted to agree,” Commander agreed.
“Comrades, we move forward, I announced. Target before return,” I concluded and moved followed by the team.
I became worried about our colleagues at the rear and to calm myself I walked back to the last boy. When I felt sure everyone held out I walked back to my position and patted each person on the back and reassured them we would meet our target. I directed BB to strike the piece of stick on the long knife with him to enable us confirm things went well at the rear.
Everything in the natural but unnatural abode bore the signature of precipitateness but we moved forward. We assumed a regular pace till we bumped into a clearing which made all of us to shout. Tall grasses covered the space without one tree in sight. Someone christened it Grass Island to the delight of everyone. We saw no path to follow but we waded through using our hands and the sticks.
I stopped when I noticed a number of snakes few yards from where we stood. It felt strange because snakes are by nature loners from the day of birth. When one of them rose like a pole I knew we were in trouble. It began to move towards us in a gentle but deliberate manner. I recovered fast enough from the strange hold of dread but rather than run backwards – which would have been futile – I howled, raised the stick in my hand, and ran towards it. The animal turned full circle and ran backwards followed by the others. While the team members cheered I shouted an old adage, “Tell them – let the snake crawl straight rather than meander. Let the millipede twist itself rather than crawl straight. I know the type of stick I will use to kill either of them.” The excitement propelled us forward but for a second time the hunter appeared with his back towards us.
“You,” I called out. “Either you are with us or against us.”
“I came back to share one fact with you. In this world we knock three times and no more.”
He vanished and left us to wonder whether he existed in reality or in our thoughts.
A short while after we observed another monster about fifty yards from us. A big, furry animal stood on our path its brownness a sharp contrast with the green environment. One of us shouted: “A lion!”
All of us had seen lions either in books or on television screens but because we lived in a town where government claims it has no money to feed wild animals in a zoo we saw a life lion for the first time in our lives.
No one needed to tell us to run because of the futility of such effort. At best one of us, the slowest, would be felled by the lion, but in the confusion we would scatter, lose our bearing, and lose more team members.
During childhood I learned lions run when first attacked despite the size of the attacker. I took the long knife from Commander, beat it on the stick in my hand and ran towards the beast. It growled, turned, and ran into the sea of grass. The flip side of such situation scared me though. If a lion runs at first attack but returns, nothing stops it from its target despite odds against it. Besides we saw it as a third “knock” in line with the mysterious hunter’s position. We decided to return to safe ground whether we considered our target met or unmet. I told BB to lead the team back to the path to enable us return. We trotted all the way to the beach and headed for the boat.
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