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I still remember that particular day, we had travelled to the village to visit my grandparents, we had been there for three days, the village air was calm and peaceful. Had an aura of nothingness surrounding it, like the first day I attended the secondary school at Koloma and I was asked my name; Yeah! Nothingness!! like I felt on that very same day. My junior brother was playing a game with some of the other children from the compound, mostly boys who were older than him. As white birds with long necks flew over the three bedroom bungalow, echoing strange sounds in unison "quack quack!! quack quack quack!!!". "This are the birds grandmother used to tell us about" I told Macaulay as I dragged him outside.
"Laycay! Laycay! Give me water fingers" Macaulay sang out, flying his hands in the air once he saw the wind riding creatures. I just stood there thinking about what grandma told us. "could it be true? that this little creatures really called down the rain with their beautiful songs wher-ever they traveled" I wondered. And within a minute, like a match strike on a box of matches. Little streamlets of water started descending the sky, and a storm grew quickly around us, mighty and strong. Marabou storks began fishing the river in all the commotion.
Head and neck pinkish in color and covered with sparse feathers down, with a very thick bill. I know the type of bird for my teacher taught us about them in biology class. The bill is about twelve inches long and they eat carrion (dead fish) and small animals. I think. Macaulay was taking off his clothes to join the other children dancing in the rain when Mom gave a well sounding slap on his buttocks. He ran inside in a wild yell. Macaulay... he was a small boy, he was still giving me his primary five assignments to do. Grandma had prepared a very rich meal of Okodo, consisting of goat meat and plantain, lots and lots of plantain and palm oil. It was a feast for the soul, a carnival of deliciousness for the eyes.
A sweet family time of hot inhalations and exhalations. After two more days, father told us of a class mate of his called Manee Orutu who was getting married at the most developed community in the area. It was a nice little town called Bomadi at the tip of the Niger Delta. Vibrant and brooding with a million activities. Young girls with grown up bodies, smoking joints in every single junction, you get the picture. I couldn't believe what father told us, that the man was even older than he was. What on earth was he waiting for before settling down? I wondered. Fantasizing about when I would come of age, and no longer be monitored on everything I was doing. Anyhow, the next day was a Saturday, and it broke like a cloudburst from the sky. Father had been up since five, and mother was hypertensive struggling to get all of us ready.
"Go and bath. Where is your shoe? Do this and do that" filled the air. It was hectic like Macaulay's dedication, and boy was that day hectic….. I won't be forgetting it in a hurry. For reasons not fully understood, father wanted us all dressed in the same native attire, and Macaulay was more than happy, jumping around in his pyjama like trousers. I always hated native clothes, and the ones I had on this morning were extra bogus. I was almost fainting in the excess load.
By nine o clock we were all ready to go: several speedboats sped past filled to the brim with passengers, and the sun was starting to boast strength overwhelming every one in their heavy clothes. A few minutes later, another boat came along, it looked like grandmother's cooking pot ferring only three people. We all waved and shouted for it to stop, even a few busy-body passerbys joined in the action. And when it did come to a halt, father negotiated prices with the driver like he was not in a hurry. I was thinking it was going to be a no show when the driver gave into father's persuasion and prize and we got aboard. I was thrilled to be in a speed boat again, the endless wind gusts on my face and water chasing sun, it was all a new experience for me. I waved to my grandparents till I could see them no more on the wooden bridge. Excitedly, I took in the view of fading town and trees whole heartedly.
Imagining it was me moving at that speed, running on top of the shimmering water. I closed my eyes and I could only imagine scenes from a Hollywood film. I guess Macaulay had something different in mind, he kept trying to get a scoop of the waves …. but mom stopped him every time with a smack on his hand. We had traveled for about twenty minutes, when the engine developed a fault. Titituff! Titituff! Titituff! was the sound it continued to make as the driver, who was also a makeshift engineer now tried to resuscitate it back to life. It can be quite unpleasant you know, floating around in a river in the hot sun, wearing very heavily padded clothes. A man in front of my seat was even angrier than I was …. constantly making"oh God nooo!!!" sounds. Then a few meters away from the boat was a sight I had never expected to meet my eyes. A little puppy clinched onto a log. It's hair was wet and it was starting to shake. The passenger in the front seat explained that the neighboring community had recently put in place: A No Dogs Allowed Rule, rather impromptu tasking the village youths to kill any they saw for food and burden the owners with a substantial sum of money as fine. This harsh law had driven many to do away with their dogs anyhow they seemed fit.
"Why would anyone kill a puppy?" I cried. "Because they bite" he replied and quickly switched his attention back to the rickety old engine. "Oh God!" He continued. I knew Macaulay would not let this chance of getting our very own dog pass him by, all he needed was a few encouraging words from me. I didn't say much anyway. I just told him to cry very hard for it. And did he know how to get what he wanted from our parents. First he gazed at mom with his most beautiful rendition of cute baby eyes. Like scenes from Disney movies. I was glad he didn't try it on dad because I knew it would have never worked on him, if it would have earned him anything, it would have been a knock on the head. But Mom was soft and easy …..next…. he slowly whispered to her ears, "Mommy save the puppy" in a sweet tender voice, and that was all it took. The magic words, mom and dad had a little argument but Mom won, she always wins this sort of arguments. Macaulay smiled when it was agreed that we would go home with the puppy. Father took the poor little creature of the plank and into the boat, and placed it between the legs of Macaulay. I tried to be mature about the whole thing, trying not to show interest at all. But deep inside, I was even more elated about having a dog as a pet than my brother.
I tried calculating the age of the puppy, five months I thought and placed it. It had deep brown eyes, patches of brown on the ears and the end of the tail, the rest of the body was a golden yellow color. "What a handsome dog" I thought, trying to decipher with my eyes if it was a male or a female. The driver gave another pull on the engine and with a mighty Tititititiii! It came back to existence with a whirlpool of very thick smoke. "Thank God oo!" We all shouted in excitement as the boat sped up. I signalled to my brother that he had to hold the puppy well least it went back to the water, and Macaulay no longer played with any wave. All his concentration was on his new best friend. But I think such devotion wasn't needed anyway, because after a while it became evident that the puppy was a gentle kind and besides it was more than happy to be out of the cold dirty river.
When we arrived at Bomadi an hour and a half minutes later, everybody was already tired of the whole party rave. Even mother just wanted lie down somewhere. But father would hear none of it. "Come on now. We are here" he persuaded us all down the boat. For one thing, I was glad I was out of the rickety old speed boat, and worse the scorching afternoon heat. I looked on as the driver too exited the abominable craft and walked away to God knows where….? I was wondering why the authorities permitted people to drive such despicable things when father stopped a bus and packed us all inside. Vrooom!!! We sped down the road. I looked behind me and I could see Macaulay and the puppy, the animal had gotten dry and stronger and was even getting familiar with my brother. He giggled when it licked him on the hand. I was jealous…. I had not gotten a chance to even hold the puppy, but I knew father would hear none of it if I voiced my feelings. Heavy music spluttered out of a loud speaker and people moved up and down like doctors and nurses at the hospital when I was admitted for typhoid fever last year. I needed nobody to tell me we had arrived at the party.
Father got right in on the action greeting folks, it seemed he knew everybody and everybody knew him. Mother took us by the hands and led us to a table at the back. I think my hands touched the puppy for the first time while we were there. She left and came back with two plates of jollof rice and chicken, and placed them before Macaulay and I. My brother wanted a plate for the puppy, but when mother gave him the evil look. He knew it was a path he could not travel. He shared the meal with the puppy that day, especially the rice…. for the meat, I think bones was all the poor dog got. So I peeled off a steak of flesh and threw it it's way…I think it was more than happy the way it took it's time devouring it, and afterwards looking at me smacking it's lips like it wanted more. After a month of our stay at the village, we were back at the city and Cyrus had grown strong and big.
I thought it a stupid name for a dog but Macaulay insisted naming it after it's favorite cartoon character. (Cyrus the dog. In The Cyrus and Wimbly show) don't get me wrong I like cartoons, but that Saturday morning special was made by kindergartens for kindergartens, anyway that's my perspective. Two years down the history books. I am older now so I can write better…. thank you very much besides I'm sixteen and Macaulay thirteen. And Cyrus would be four by now, which is a lot going by dog years. He had grown into a beautiful German Shepherd and it was unbelievable when we remembered that it was from a river we pulled him it out of. Kind of one of the reasons I nicknamed him Moses like the Bible tale. But Macaulay would not hear of it. If he heard me call it any other name apart from Cyrus ….. there was gonna be trouble. Like I said before he is a small boy so most times I let him have his way. Whenever I came back from school, Cyrus would follow me around wagging his tail. And tugging on my clothes. It was a very smart dog, I think even when it was young it pooped in the house just four times… and that was long ago, now it always ran to the backyard for that kind of rotten business.
Even mother and father loved it dearly, I remember father buying chewy toys once or twice for it. But above all Cyrus was Macaulay's best friend. They strolled around the area and chased each other up and down the compound. Macaulay Loved the dog. It had a special cage it slept in at the entrance of the house…. but most times it just liked to lazy around on the veranda and no one ever troubled it. But it was a threat to visitors, they were always afraid to come into the house with Cyrus guarding the door. And would you blame them, it was a terrifying looking big dog …. but it was a gentle dog, unless it didn't know the person and in that case the person was an intruder and should be ready to go visit the hospital. One night around eleven o clock, when every body had slept Cyrus suddenly started to bark fiercely…..first we thought it random but then it got serious real quick when we heard a gun shot. Father rushed to the door and saw Cyrus in a pool of it's own blood. Someone had tried to rob us by filing through the back door proctector and Cyrus had attacked the intruder. And the thief had shot him. Cyrus was gasping for breath on the ground. Father quickly took the dog to a veterinarian doctor at the outskirts of town, and Cyrus was hospitalized. When father did not come back, and the barking had ceased we knew something terrible had happened to Cyrus.
Macaulay started to cry and mother took him into her arms and comforted him. I tried to find courage by cleaning the tears piling up around my eyes and crumbled into a sofa. I think I slept there that night. Mother did not want to disturb me to go into the bedroom that night….she understood my pain.…for I guess everyone had a soft spot for Cyrus. The next day morning, a Monday. Nobody thought about going to school. We all headed straight for the hospital. Cyrus was in a coma on the hospital bed. Father explained to us that the bullet had severed a major artery close to it's heart, and it was only machines that kept it alive for now .… and he made it known to everybody that there was no way Cyrus would survive this ordeal. We kept Cyrus alive on the machine for a week, and on the fourth day it opened it's eyes.…and let out what seemed to me like a smile. Macaulay sat by it's side and stroking it's paw. I couldn't help but to cry remembering how we met the poor little dog.
In a way I felt guilty …. wondering what would have been it's fate, if another family had found it... and life had taken it down another path. On the next Monday that followed, the doctor advised father to set the poor animal free by turning off the machine. Father relayed the information to us and Macaulay burst into tears, my father wiped his spectacles as the doctor turned off the machine. Macaulay held it's paw while it slowly closed it's eyes, it had paid the supreme prize for the protection of our family. I still remember that particular day as I sat by the hospital door with tears rolling deep in my eyes.